


I've Been Called Worse Things by Better People

by SlowBurnRomantic



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Boxing, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boxer Grantaire, Boys In Love, Dancing, M/M, New Jersey, Virgin Enjolras, lindy hop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlowBurnRomantic/pseuds/SlowBurnRomantic
Summary: Local Jersey dockside lad Grantaire has made a life for himself off of his self discipline. He boxes. He competes in the local Lindy Hop circuit with his next door neighbor Eponine. His whole, comfortable life of fighting, dancing, drinking, lunch counters, and taking men into back alleyways after his performances gets thrown for a loop when a group of mostly Princeton students show up at a local bar and plot to change the direction of the country. He considers it his duty to disrupt their meetings with his smart mouth, and over the months that follow, he relishes in the frustration he wrings out of the Princeton boy leading the way. Will a bet on the boxing match between the Brown Bomber and Rocky Marciano change the course of their relationship? And more importantly, in the time of McCarthyism, is there also time for... love?
Relationships: Combeferre/Éponine Thénardier, Enjolras & Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	1. The Man in Green and Black

Enjolras stared in fury at the cocky, grinning man leaning against the bar. He had the kind of hyper masculine face that had seen one fist too many and was so utterly ugly that he just came off as the kind of arrogance that you knew he took a different girl home every night. His clothes were immaculate, throwing the image of a thug aside for that of a gangster. Wide legged black slacks, black and green leather wingtips, a white collared shirt, green vest, and matching green tie. Black, green and white-- his hair, his eyes, his teeth. Next to him stood a petite black haired woman in a top and skirt that matched his outfit perfectly, obviously made from the same fabric even. They were a striking couple, him with his muscles filling out all of the right places, her with her curves swooping delicately in the same fashion-- the beauty and the beast.

“Joseph McCarthy is a coward,” Enjolras growled, “And his witch hunt is only so that he can gather power. Only ONE politician has to guts to stand up to him, and she is a hero for standing up for the freedom that the founders worked so hard to guarantee!”

The man in the suit, calm and mocking, took a swig of his dark brown bottle and smiled again, “Oh yes, they worked so hard to guarantee freedom. That’s why women have only been able to vote for three decades, and there are still entire states where blacks can’t cast a single ballot. Don’t delude yourself, they didn’t care about freedom for citizens, they cared about power for themselves. Politicians are the same-- it is all about keeping all of the power for themselves while trying to divide and distract the nation so that they don’t stand up and take some of it too.”

Enjolras ran a hand through his blond curls, “Haven’t you been listening? That’s what we’re trying to do here! Take back some of the power for the citizens!” Enjolras, the man clearly in charge of this meeting, could scarcely have looked any further from the man he was arguing with. He was a striking man in his own right, looking like a marble statue of a Greek god come to life. Blond curls framed his face like a halo, his cheekbones and jaw distinct, his blue eyes aflame with passion, and his cupid’s bow lips parted to reveal perfect white teeth when he spoke to inflame the crowd. 

“What do YOU know about the citizens? You? Princeton students? You are guaranteed riches and chances are you’ll never work a hard day’s labor in your life. Feuilly and Lesgle are the only ones among you with honest labor to their names, I’m sure of that.” With that he raised his drink and nodded his head to the two working class men at this get together-- consequently the only ones he knew from his life in Jersey. 

“Oh yes? And tell me, how am I going to make the future better for everyone as a dockworker?” Enjolras spit back, making a wild guess based on the musculature of this strange man.

  
“No. You tell me, how are you going to make the future better  _ for _ dockworkers from up on that pedestal you’ve clearly perched yourself on. Don’t look down on anyone for the work they do, they change their communities in ways both large and small. They unionized. They provide healthcare and pensions. What do you Princeton boys do for us? Spend money on our alcohol and try to seduce our women? If that’s all you have to offer, take it back home with you and keep it. We do a good enough job of it ourselves, thanks,” another devilish smile. This bastard was enjoying arguing JUST for the sake of arguing. Enjolras’ blood boiled.

He ground his teeth, this was going to be a  _ long  _ night.

***

After the meeting concluded Enjolras approached Feuilly, a local factory worker, and Lesgle, a local postman, and quietly asked, “Who was that man?”

Feuilly smiled apologetically, “Oh, that’s just Grantaire St. Martin. Local boy. Son of a dock worker and an old coworker of mine, in fact. R and I used to work together in high school making wartime goods, but he never really cared about it. He cared more about boxing.”

Lesgle added in, “He was here with Eponine Thernadier, his neighbor. I deliver along their route.”

“They an item then?” Enjolras inquired, knowing in his heart that they were, but hoping ardently that they weren’t. That damn, infuriating man was so incredibly attractive that he was going to keep him up all night dreaming about what was under that immaculate suit.

“Actually, no,” Feuilly shocked Enjolras with this news, “They are dance partners. Have been for, oh, a decade? They are big in the local Lindy Hop scene, since he’s so strong and she’s so small they can do all kinds of acrobatic moves. I get why you’re asking though, she’d be quite the wife with a figure like that.”

“Aah, you wouldn’t want her,” Lesgle disagreed, “Her family were the worst kind of people. If you ask me, she’s better off with them dead.”

Enjolras was taken aback, “How old were those two??” They had looked like respectable adults, but much of that was their gorgeous matching clothing, but not so old as all that.

“Same age as me,” said Lesgle, rubbing his perfectly bald head while smiling, “Twenty four and going on forty.”

***

Ten years ago, the St. Martin family household was a bustling place, with his surly father, his angelic mother, his two rowdy older brothers. Some of his warmest memories were of boxing them under their father’s watchful eye each weekend, as their father made sure that his sons would grow into the type of men who never backed down from a just fight. 

Ten years ago he would come home from school, put on a record, and dance with his mother in the front room before anyone else got home and her attention was needed elsewhere. He loved those afternoons, with the big band music on the record player and the lessons his mother taught him in the dances from her youth-- the charleston, the foxtrot, and some new ones she would learn with his father on their weekly date, like swing and the jitterbug. His mother was most herself laughing and dancing with her youngest son, Grantaire. In the happy days of his youth, the house was full of life. True, their house was a postage stamp sized starter home for low income families-- two bedrooms, a living room, bathroom, kitchen, and attached dining room, but it was theirs. 

They had garden boxes at the windows full of colorful flowers, and the inside always smelled like fresh baking and laundry. They had a blooming apple tree in the yard. They had their own version of the American dream-- don’t expect anything in life and you’ll never be disappointed, and they were happy. They were known to be upstanding members of the community, pious Catholics, good people to know. 

Unfortunately, when the war started and his oldest brother Antoine was drafted, everything started to go downhill. Antoine was killed in the Allied invasion of Italy in ‘43. He wasn’t the first in the neighborhood to come home in a casket, and he certainly wasn’t the last. That was when the dancing stopped in their home. His mother started drinking heavily then, and her joy melted away like frost in the morning sun. 

Then his father, working hard to ship out goods at the docks to meet the punishing demands of the war died when a piece of load bearing equipment failed in ‘44. One brother dead, now his father, and Grantaire had excess rage and anger against the world and no healthy way to get it out of his system safely. He was forced to replace boxing his older brothers on the weekends with taking his anger out at the local boxing gym. It was either that or explode, and now more than ever his family depended on him to make a solid contribution. At that moment, he was desperate to keep his mother alive and his remaining family together. 

After that loss, Grantaire and Victor had to start working, one in a factory, the other as subway maintenance over in New York City. Victor fell against the third rail one dark night in ‘45, narrowing their once happy home down to he and his mother. When it was only Grantaire left for her to care for, his mother took too many sleeping pills one night and failed to wake up in June of that same year. It was the week before his high school graduation, and he was officially all alone in the world. Yes, 10 years ago it was nice. Back in ‘41 when the house was abuzz with voices and laughter, when dancing was a daily event and boxing was a familial match between his playful brothers. Now it was just him and his memories.

***

Eponine was the poster child for a Jersey woman who took no shit. Her life had been hard. Harder than it had any right to be, and it had left her scrabbling for meaning within herself to fill the void that was suddenly vacated by a difficult upbringing. Like Grantaire, she was orphaned at 17. Unlike Grantaire, she had no happy memories of her childhood. Her father was a criminal, her mother was neglectful, and her siblings had to go without necessities time and again, never feeling secure in anything but each other. 

Her younger sister Azelma had taken the easy way out and married an older man so that she could get out of the neighborhood as soon as she could. She saw marriage as a financial transaction, and she bid her youth and beauty for a ticket out of the dockside, but her gamble didn’t pay off as she had hoped. She died in childbirth with her first and only child, which also didn’t make it, only having lived one year of her life in relative security. Eponine ached for her, but she took her lesson to heart-- any nail that sticks up will be hammered down. There was only one way out of dockside Jersey, and that was in a casket.

Unlike Grantaire, she still had a living sibling: Gavroche. He was a free spirit, having decided early on that he was just as likely to eat without a home as he was with one, and there was much better scenery when he was on a wander. She saw him usually for a week or two per year, and outside of that had no idea of where he got to or how to contact him. So as much as she still technically had Gavroche, she was filled with just as much loneliness that she felt desperate to fill up somehow. 

That is what led to them sneaking out at night, in the spring of ‘43, to go dancing and forget what awaited them at home. Of course they started out rubbish, but they enjoyed themselves and Grantaire was one hell of a dancer. It was a space and a time where they got to be playful and forget the whole world-- the stupid war, their difficult family situations, their tight money, everything. Over time they got better, and she basked in the many secret hours she got to spend with the most decent man in her life. 

The only things that had kept Eponine and Grantaire going through those dark years, as their families became painful memories, was their dancing, his boxing, and her pining over the Princeton boys who only kept interest in her long enough to bed her. Now he lived in his family’s home, alone, and she lived in the same exact company right next door.

She was content to spend her days working as a seamstress, dancing, drinking, and trying to meet the right man. She would dream about having a family of her own one day, married to the kind of man who would treat her better than her mother had been treated, but as each year went by and the Princeton boys rotated in and out of her life, she had begun to seriously consider the proposal that Grantaire had made to her in their youth. 

He would never abuse her, they could go on dancing, sharing meals, and enjoying themselves, just that he would be finding men to take to bed, and so would she. She had kept his secret for years, not even telling the priest in her weekly attendance at Mass, for it wasn’t hers to tell. They could have kids, if she wanted, so long as her kids came out approximately the right color to stop people from talking, he would stay by her side, no matter how many men had sired her children. Nobody would be able to accuse him of being light, and her future would be guaranteed to be far smoother than her past had been. She was really only tempted by it in the night, when her home felt too empty and her heart ached for a partner. One day, if everything continued as loveless as it had these past years, she might even say yes. Hopefully not this year, but maybe someday...

***


	2. The Rhythm of My Days, The Rhythm of Your Nights

The rhythm of Enjolras’ week was fast and tight. Each day started with rowing at sunrise. He had his classes, Monday through Thursday, in his pursuit of a law degree that he had hoped to put in service of liberalizing the more backwards parts of the country through the courtroom. Classes concluded by 5 PM, after which point he spent 2.5 hours per day in the library, then dinner and light reading before bed. His weekends consisted of finishing assignments, holding and attending rallies, and leading his liberal social club, the US branch of the French pro-democracy organization Les Amis de l’ABC-- the friends of the abased. Their goal was to spread freedom to all citizens of all walks of life, regardless of income, religion, ethnicity, sex-- they wanted freedom to reign from sea to shining sea. 

The rhythm of Grantaire’s days was no less rigid. Up at 7:30 to run, then over to the gym to lift weights and spend time on the punching bag. Back home at 9:30 for breakfast with Eponine, a shower, and any errands that needed doing. Back to the gym for boxing practice against the local boys, nothing heavy, then lunch at the Woolworth’s Lunch Counter. Another shower, then a nice perusal of the newspaper. Dancing with Eponine from 5:30-7:00 in her wood floored living room, then dinner, a nightcap, and bed. He kept himself busy despite not having a 9-5 job, but his day to day wasn’t what made him feel alive-- it just made sure that when he had the chance to perform for the crowds, he was ready. When they were in their element, dancing in the stunning outfits that Ep made them or performing in the ring, he would come to life. On those nights he ended up getting wildly drunk and taking someone home… or to an alleyway… or a car… or the bathroom, and getting back to that rigid schedule was the penance he paid for the fun he had on the weekends.

***

Inexplicably, Grantaire managed to show up, unbidden, to nearly every Les Amis meeting for months now, and his knowledge of modern events drove Enjolras crazy. If Enjolras argued that it was immoral to put Ethel Rosenberg to death over the crimes committed by her husband, thus holding the state responsible for orphaning their children, Grantaire would counter that they were being made an example of to warn other spies of the grim fate that awaited not only them, but their whole family. Enjolras would rage that none should be charged for the crimes of another, and Grantaire would rebut that claim by arguing that many lives were being saved by the loss of that one family. Back and forth, on an on. 

If he were being honest with himself, Enjolras would have to admit that arguing with Grantaire really brought some pep to their meetings, and helped him to refine his own arguments for public demonstrations and eventual appearances in the courtroom...hopefully. And if Grantaire were being honest with himself, he only got Enjolras worked into such a state in a public venue because he doubted that he would ever have a chance to work him into a similarly attractive state in a private venue, so he took what he could get.

At each of these meetings, Grantaire would drink a bit too much, drive Enjolras a bit too wild, and tell steamy stories and bawdy jokes to the other Les Amis members after the meetings concluded before taking his leave. Sometimes he had Eponine with him, and she would drink and gossip with other women at the bar, throwing looks back at the handsome men plotting to change the world. Eventually she would join in a bit too, but usually only for about 15 minutes before she left with Grantaire. Enjolras aside, everyone liked having him around. He was refreshingly frank and was honestly the only one fully willing to disagree with their leader with no fear of a protracted argument. In fact, they had all come to a quiet consensus that Grantaire only came in the first place to have those arguments, which is why Lesgle would always secretly drop a quick note in his mailbox to keep him abreast of club plans and meetings.

After a particularly difficult night of disagreement on nuclear testing being done within the United States and around the world, Enjolras snapped. He had only seen Grantaire in the bar, and as a result he didn’t understand how this brute made his living. He committed himself to seeing him in his own element. Nobody had to know, of course, but his curiosity had been piqued nearly to breaking, so he slyly gathered information from secondhand sources on the next local boxing event. He would be there, even if he had to bend his schedule to breaking, and he would see this man get the punches he deserved for that filthy mouth of his. It would be delightful.

***

Grantaire kept his fists up close to his face, wrapped and gloved, as he danced foot to foot. His powerfully built body glistened in the lights under a sheen of sweat as he ducked a powerful left hook and popped back up attempting an uppercut that was easily dodged. 

The audience was full and rowdy that day, shouting insults and encouragement to both men, while being utterly ignored by the combatants. Eponine was out there, as always, proud to see her best friend in his element. She wasn’t the only one watching Grantaire closely for reasons other than the outcome of the match. 

Grantaire felt the slipperiness of the leather bottom of his shoes, knowing that a well placed hit could send him flying, he stayed on his toes, dodging what he had to and biding his time. His opponent would make a mistake. They always made mistakes. And when he inevitably did? Grantaire would be right there, with a strong right cross to show them the stars up close.

Hidden among the crowd, a blond man strained to see, dressed inconspicuously in a grey suit with a felt hat pulled down over his curly hair, all blue eyes and sculpted facial features. Being honest with himself, Enjolras wanted to see R take a few hits to the face that he wished he could give himself. Being even more honest with himself, he really wanted to see more of Grantaire’s form. Get a better understanding of that gorgeous body and all of the training it had put into his passion. He felt bad, a bit, to have insulted dock workers attempting to make a jab at Grantaire, but succeeding only in making a nasty comment about his deceased father. He would love to make it up to him, but every time they met at the Musain, he somehow always knew, and more often than not he was there with his smart mouth. Actually, when he wasn’t there, it wasn’t nearly as fun, but he wouldn’t focus on that. This man drove him crazy, and when they were together in those meetings he wanted to climb over the tables and shake him. Now he could see how ill advised that would be, his lightly muscled form against that beast of a man. 

_ There _ . Grantaire had found it. His partner has started to slow, favoring his right side over his left. Light as he was on his toes in the beginning, his opponent had started to feel the weight of three long rounds and the dozens of punches that he had not managed to block stacking up on him. Time was running out, so he madly threw a right handed punch at Grantaire, but not quickly enough to connect with St. Martin. Gliding lightly to the left, Grantaire’s powerful fist connected solidly with the other man’s temple, sending vibrations up his arm all the way to the shoulder, and the other man went down. Hard. The referee counted him off and Grantaire went back to slump in his corner, swigging water and pouring some over his head. This win should be enough to qualify him for a regional match in three weeks. His life of training to be good in the ring paid off with dividends in little matches like this. He had been counting on the $50 he had won this week. Add that to the $50 they each got to take home from the Lindy Hop regionals, and he would be good to keep focusing on turning his two passions into a career. So long as he could keep this up, he was golden.

Enjolras goggled at the perfection of the boxer’s physical form, with a well defined back that thinned into his slender waist. He would enjoy imagining what was under those cotton boxing shorts, loose and short, that revealed his brawny legs and led down to his tight leather boxing shoes. Luckily there was still a bit left for him to imagine. He slipped out the back, now that Grantaire’s qualifying match was concluded, feeling just a little bit guilty, slightly dirty and more than a little impressed at what he had seen. That man was a god among men, a terrible and vengeful god, come to torment him night and day, and now that he knew exactly how powerful he was, he longed even more to best him in the Musain. Someday. Then maybe, if his luck somehow held up, in the bedroom. Wasn’t that a nice thought?

***

Sometimes, while out on a run or while pushing his body to the limit at the gym, Grantaire would daydream about what Enjolras’ life was like. He imagined he would be the know-it-all kid in class, just as likely to argue with peers as with the teacher. He imagined he would take up an entire table at the library with his books and papers, glaring intensely at the material until it surrendered its deepest secrets. He imagined he would not allow himself to indulge in unhealthy activities. He was sure that he’d never seen him drink hard liquor or beer at the bar, for that matter he didn’t imagine he would go beyond a glass of wine at dinner. He doubted that a cigarette had ever been held between his lips-- or that many delightful things ever had. Not that he didn’t enjoy picturing a particular indulgence between his heavenly lips, as that was an image that filled his dreams and fantasies. Truth be told, he didn’t care one lick about the subversive group that met up at the Musain each week, but if that was the only way for him to see Enjolras impassioned, eyes aflame and focused on him, then he would take it. 

***


	3. Grantaire Changes...

After a particularly heated discussion on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the idealistic UN document, Les Amis wrapped up their meeting. Enjolras was on a mission, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He marched right up to Grantaire, having just launched into a story of drunken misadventure with a wide grin and grand gestures to Marius and Courfeyrac, and waited. Marius’ eyes widened as he elbowed Courfeyrac and nodded towards Enjolras. Courf’s eyes bugged out of his head when he moved his attention from the muscular man before him to the slender man behind. This chain reaction brought R up short, stopping mid word, and turning to see what his audience was staring at. It was Enjolras, somber and quiet, who offered up, “Can we talk?” Grantaire flicked his eyes back to the other men, who got the message and quietly joined the nearest group of men, leaving the two men with some privacy.

“And how may I help my holy Apollo?” Grantaire grinned, taking a pull from his bottle while running his eyes down the other man slowly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and pulled a folded magazine out of his inner pocket. It was an old medical journal, opened to a particular article far within. “I want you to read this article and really, really think about what you are doing to yourself. Every choice comes with risks, but I want you to know the risks before you continue to take them.”

Grantaire glanced down, “Punch Drunk,” the article proclaimed. “I had no idea you cared,” Grantaire teased, “But the only boxers that get punch drunk are the ones that let themselves take a lot of damage, and that’s just not me.”

Enjolras set his jaw, “As the article shows, it is cumulative. Two shots to the head this week, three next, one the week after. A little bit adds up quite quickly. Listen Grantaire, I get it, you don’t respect me because you think I have lived a sheltered life. And you know what? Maybe I have. But no matter how infuriating you are, you have a lightning quick tongue, a solid brain, and the potential for great things. I don’t want to see you waste it all and end up in an early grave. Just… think about it, will you?” With that, he walked away.

Grantaire looked down at the article-- more than 20 years old. How on earth did Enjolras get a hold of such an old publication? ...And why would he go through all of that trouble for him? He tucked it into his own inner pocket and finished his beer, deciding to call it a night and see exactly what fool thing he had just been handed. 

***

Grantaire was  _ mad. _ He was the kind of mad that comes from being told something reasonable in a clear and calm fashion that could upend his entire life. He loved boxing. Boxing had always been there for him, good times and bad, as a way to get his aggression out. Even his  _ worst _ memories of boxing were bittersweet, and here comes this wet rag to tell him that he shouldn’t do it anymore because it will give him a shorter life and ruin his perfectly good brain? Of course, there was no way to limit the damage that he had already sustained from a life of boxing, but now that he knew this information, he had to ask himself: was he going to do anything about it? How would he make ends meet if he didn’t box? How would he be able to work through his emotions? How could he perform for a crowd his unique brand of masculinity without balancing out his time on the dance floor with his time in the boxing ring? Who would he be if he wasn’t a boxer? He could get a job, he figured, but what exactly could fill the hole that boxing would leave in its wake? 

***

Enjolras packed up his library books in a huff. In the two and a half hours he had spent there, his mind had been far too distracted to achieve a fraction of the work that he was used to churning out. It was that damn Grantaire! Truth be told, he valued his inputs at the Les Amis meetings more than he cared to admit. He was used to classmates academically disagreeing with him on a legal or theoretical basis, but he was not used to anyone disagreeing with him nearly as vehemently as Grantaire did. So far, as near as he could suss out from the first meeting on, the only things that Grantaire cared about were worker’s rights and the vote, and he wasn’t even sure on either of those. How could a man live such a hard life, at least according to Lesgle and Feuilly, and still care so little about making it easier for anyone? He just didn’t understand him! What was worse was that his brain was so lithe and nimble, yet he  _ chose _ to make a living out of such mindless violence? What a waste! Who could better represent the working class in New Jersey than this brilliant, infuriating, hypermasculine local lad? The likelihood of convincing him to even run for a position on city council was dangerously low. The likelihood to sway him towards a life in public office? Laughable. Talk about a waste...

***

Grantaire sat in a small, uncomfortable wooden chair across the desk from a pudgy man in glasses. He fidgeted with his hat, held in his hands, as the man explained in detail the time and financial investments required to meet his goals. It was an 18 month intensive program, 11-5 M-F with a quick break for lunch at 1:30. He could pay $34 a month, and if he was able to stick it out he would get a career in advertising, and could ply his trade easily from his own home, or he could take the short trip to NYC and work for a major business there. Or maybe a magazine. He wasn’t sure about it, but after soul searching and plumbing the depth of his personality, he knew that his real talents were in convincing people to take certain actions that he desired. He knew that, if he applied himself, he would do fine in advertising. He had enjoyed art plenty in school, always had an eye for colors and proportions. Sure, it wouldn’t be as thrilling as boxing, but he would make good, steady money and prevent himself from taking any excess damage. He would have a higher grade future with higher class peers, and at least he could keep dancing with Eponine and working out his frustration at the gym. And who knows? Maybe the public performance of seeing his art displayed on buses and in magazines would give him the same thrill as being watched in the ring. He could always hope...

***

Posters were everywhere. Madison Square Garden, October 26, 7:00 PM Joe Louis vs. Rocky Marciano.

The radio continually advertised it. Even people with TVs were constantly bombarded with information on the fight. 

Grantaire was more excited for it than he let on to. Joe Louis, the Brown Bomber, was his idol in high school. He is the greatest heavyweight to have ever lived! Of the 68 professional fights he competed in, he had won 66. It was a no brainer. Sure, he was getting older. Sure, he had come out of retirement to pay off some debts, so he was a bit old to be doing this at more than 35 years in age, but he was a legend!

Enjolras, frustratingly attentive, as usual, caught this excitement when he tried to casually bring it up to Grantaire one night after a meeting where they debated military deescalation.  _ Aha _ , he thought,  _ perfect. _ Biding his time, he found a time to place his challenge to Grantaire.

If Joe Louis won, Enjolras would do something for Grantaire that he could help get him access to. If Rocky Marciano won, Grantaire would extend the same favor to Enjolras. Nothing excessive, just a friendly bet between equals. Grantaire smiled a predatory smile, the fight was in four weeks, and in that time he would be able to come up with something truly  _ delicious _ for Enjolras to do for him. He shook on it, taking Enjolras’ bet as a naive gentleman’s agreement being offered by an innocent fool. Oh how he would love this… the anticipation was going to kill him.

***

Lesgle was a good man to have on your side. He always seemed to know everything, every postman got to slowly know far too many things about the customers on their delivery route. He didn’t do anything illegal or crass, like opening mail addressed to his recipients, he was far too smart to do that, but he did notice patterns over time. He knew who was corresponding with whom, what events people liked to attend, and what interests turned people’s heads. This time he just so happened to notice a particular postcard announcement for a Jersey wide Lindy Hop competition, featuring the top three competing couples from each of the four regions. He noted down the time and date, a Sunday afternoon of all things, and delivered his mail like it was nothing. He had plans for this information. He would use it to bring all of the Les Amis de l’ABC to support their fellow club members. Two week’s time should be enough. He would call Enjolras tonight to set it all up. Wouldn’t Grantaire be thrilled?

***

Grantaire settled into his first week of school nervously. The class schedule was pretty brutal. That meant that he would be going to the gym only once a day, and after dancing and dinner with Eponine, he didn’t get to peruse the paper as much as he would have to stay up late working on assignments. He hadn’t been in school since he was 17, and he hadn’t taken orders since then. The one thing he had on his side was discipline. He didn’t have time for drinks anymore, plus he needed to save money, so he would need to cut down to two beers a week with the boys at the Musain. He wouldn’t have the time to go to Woolworth’s for lunch anymore, with the short break between classes that he had to eat, so Eponine had been convinced to make him a lunch to take with him while she was making her own. That was a saving too. He had spent a long, punishing night looking at his expenses before he figured out exactly how he would pay for school without having to fit a job in there somewhere. 

He couldn’t just stop boxing cold turkey, but the time he would usually be sparring at the gym was now spoken for, so his weekends were now eaten into so that he could prepare for the regional finals that he had earned his way into. The most he could hope for was three more bittersweet matches. He wanted to win. He wanted to go out with a bang. The prize money would help, too. So, just like that, and without looking at this too closely, he became a college boy too, and started down a path in life that he had never considered to be an option for a dockside boy like himself.

***


	4. Regional Finals

Eponine was buzzing with excitement. She had hardly believed it, but regionals was this weekend! Grantaire was wearing her out each and every night with dance practice, and she could tell it was riding on him just as hard. She didn’t know exactly what he had been up to, and she wouldn’t press him on it, but he had clearly been going through changes. He left right after breakfast, lunch in hand, and only returned in time for dancing and dinner. Her best friend was keeping secrets from her, but truth be told she was as well. It would all come out after regionals, and she couldn’t wait to tell him about the man she had been seeing on the sly. He was so sweet and smart and soft and kind! Unlike the other Princeton boys she had found, she saw a future with this one, and a way out of the dockside. But all of that could wait, this weekend would be upon them before they knew it.

***

Enjolras’ breath caught in his throat when Les Amis de l’ABC entered the dance hall that was hosting the 1951 Eastern Regional Lindy Hop Competition-- a whopping $1.50 entrance fee each. The event hall was grand, but he grew up with money and opportunity, so grand halls failed to impress him. The outfits of the crowd were akin to peacocks strutting and preening for one another, but beautiful clothes failed to impress. No, what really moved him was how vibrant the scene was. How alive and thriving and diverse and  _ young _ it was. It was the first public event that Enjolras ever got to experience that was such a rich mix of skin tones, sexes, heights, weights, incomes. It was America. It was the world. 

An electric energy thrummed through everyone as the big band started to play. Out came 12 couples, all competing for the top three spots to go on to state. Grantaire and Eponine were among them, dressed in their dapper matching green and black outfits, all smiles and bouncing energy. The judges took their seats, the music picked up, and Enjolras’ jaw dropped when he saw the first couple put on the best show that they could, twirling forward and showing him what dance  _ really _ looked like. This was what Grantaire and Eponine did six nights a week?? As far as he knew, dance was a formal exercise in rules and expectations, but this? It was like nothing he’d ever seen! Each of these couples were so expressive and fluid and  _ alive _ . Each couple had such unique and complex patterns of movement, such acrobatic moves that Enjolras was nervous for his friends-- this would be hard to beat! 

His nerves only stilled when Grantaire and Eponine glided and twirled out, executing complicated footwork before he flipped her entire body around his arm, landing her solidly on the ground without missing a step. They spun exuberantly before he launched her bodily over his head, twirling around quickly to be holding her upon landing at the next beat. His muscles plus her petite size meant that she spent as much time with her feet in the air as she did with them on the ground. Their years of dedication and showmanship shined through as they had the spotlight. They danced like they were able to predict every move their partner would make in this clearly improvised dance, like they knew their partner’s body so well that they would always be in exactly the right place on every beat. The crowd went wild! This is what they had all been waiting for! This couple, who had come up in the community since they were high schoolers, was known for their antics and dedication, and it paid off with interest tonight. With a big flourish and a particularly daring move that ended with her head maybe an inch from the ground and his body nearly parallel to it, they ended their time and smilingly joined up with the clapping couples lined up nearest the band to allow the next couple their time in the limelight. Their smiles were contagious. They had done it! Whether or not they won, they had given it their all. They had been bold and experimental, they had made it this far, and they had not left their audience wanting. 

In the remaining thirty minutes of the competition, they scrutinized their competition. They had tried some wild stuff, using their 14 inch height difference and his muscular physique to their advantage, that most couples couldn’t even dream of half of the moves they had pulled off. They knew and respected every other dancer in this competition from years of the local scene, but they knew that they had this one in the bag. Now they had the time to pay attention to the crowd for the first time, scanning for the same old faces of the people who had taught them, the people whose opinions of their performance meant more to them than even their prize money could. That’s when he spotted them, in a group that he had never imagined gathering anywhere but the Musain-- Les Amis was  _ here _ , in the crowd! 

He strained to see if their fearless leader was among them, catching a glimpse of blond ringlets between two closer spectators. What were  _ they _ doing here?? Lesgle! It had to be Lesgle’s doing! How else would those college boys ever even find out about this event? He needed to remember to thank him later… or kill him, depending on how their performance was received. A thrilled blush creeped up his cheeks as he clapped along to the music while couple after couple competed. He had been at his best. They had all gotten a glimpse into his secret world and seen him shine. The last couple finished up, every pair dancing out to the applause of the audience, and the judges withdrew to make their decisions, and the crowd was finally welcome to join in. The band was jumping, his heart was thumping, and Eponine smiled up at him as they fell into an old routine of simple moves that they didn’t have to think too much about until the song finished. The judges had made their decision, the chairman of the association coming forward to announce their decisions to the waiting crowd. 

Third place: John and Viola! The couple bowed graciously.

Second place: Edgar and Ethel! They screamed and threw their arms around one another.

First place:  _ The crowd held their collective breath, each couple crossing their fingers and hoping. For ¾ of these couples, this long journey would end here this year. It didn’t matter how long and hard they’d prepared, it had all come down to this. The judge took a deep breath, _ Grantaire and Eponine! He twirled her out, they stepped forward and bowed, smiles as big as the moon. The three winning couples converged at the judge’s table, eager to receive their medals and prize money. This put them on countdown-- one month until state. 

***

Enjolras had screamed himself hoarse when Grantaire had won. It had showed him an unexpected side of the man he was so used to seeing drunk and argumentative. A competent side. A soft side. The kind of man not afraid to throw you into the air because you knew that he would be there for you on the other side. The collective group was blown away by the vibrancy of the community that R and Ep belonged to. They had vowed to preserve and protect the communities of working class people without realizing how strong and beautiful and diverse they actually were. Yes, all of these people must struggle in their day to day lives under the harsh reality of rarely having enough money and often having dangerous jobs, but when they let themselves come together to celebrate, he suddenly understood exactly what he was fighting for. He started to admire the secret life of their alcoholic, cynical friend whose well reasoned arguments always threw their meetings into disarray.

After the competition, he had rushed over to congratulate Grantaire, then he hesitated. Other dancers and community members had rushed in first, and Grantaire was spoken for in the foreseeable future. He sought out the men’s room instead, entering unheard against the big band background sound. He heard two men talking at the sink. Not intending on eavesdropping, he went to do his business at the urinal when he heard the men discussing Eponine! Forget it, he  _ had _ to listen in! Taking his time getting himself back together he listened to the strangers, “Eponine is easy, but she likes ‘em smart. Educated like. If you were a Princeton boy, you could get her in bed next week if you wanted to.”

“But what about her partner, the big fellow?”

“Grantaire? Aw, don’t worry about him. He isn’t competition. He bats for the other team, if you know what I mean.”

“That big hulking guy? No way! I thought that type was all small and pretty. It can’t be!”

“I promise you it can. He turned down Lucy when she tried to sleep with him, and you’ve got to be light to do that.”

“Aw, Lucy? Maybe she just isn’t his type.”

“You can bet on that. But you know who he didn’t turn down? Chuck.”

“No!”

“Yep. Chuck got on his knees for the guy in the alleyway behind the dance hall.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s into that sort of thing. I mean, would you turn that down?”

“From Chuck? Hell yeah. And Lucy? Not a chance in hell. Believe me, he likes fellas. He’d probably beat me to a pulp if he heard me say it, but I know what I know.”

When the men exited the bathroom, Enjolras leaned down on the sink, shaking. This was too good to be true! Was Grantaire  _ actually _ like him? Would he have a chance with him in the first place? He washed up and hurried out to congratulate him, heart fluttering with hope.

***

He found Grantaire, leaning up against a wall and drinking some punch, his medal conspicuously missing, surrounded by the rest of Les Amis. At ease and in his own element, Enjolras finally started to understand him. He wasn’t a man of talk, as great as he was at it, he was a man of action and showmanship. He worked hard at the things he loved, and he reaped the benefits of his hard work with hard won success. He didn’t understand his relationship with Eponine, but what he had been able to pick up about it had been rather suggestive. She made their dance outfits, they danced six days a week since high school, they ate together both morning and night, they went out to bars together… but she often dated other men. And Grantaire? He wasn’t bothered, even though he was never seen with anyone else. He had originally thought of them as a married couple living in separate homes, but now that he had overheard those two men in the bathroom, he started to wonder what was  _ really _ up with those two. Eponine was nowhere to be seen, having gone off to show off her medal and get congratulations from old friends. When Enjolras walked up, the other men moved over to give him a chance to congratulate their victorious compatriot. He pumped Grantaire’s hand up and down, “Well done! I had no idea you two were such amazing dancers, Grantaire!”

Grantaire smirked, “Glad you enjoyed it. I didn’t know you were a fan of dance, Enjolras. It seems a bit antithetical to your revolutionary ideals.”

“Nonsense. A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having. You’re a part of this collective, so I don’t have to tell why groups like this are worth fighting to protect-- this is the soul of America. No matter what life throws at you that you can’t control, you can always dance. It is beautiful. Thank you for showing me a glimpse of your community.”

“The best people in Jersey. So uh, we going to see you all at state?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Enjolras earnestly replied.

***


	5. Shall We Dance?

Friday night, October 26th. Grantaire had rushed home after class, dropped off his materials, skipped dancing with Eponine  _ just this once _ , had dinner with her, and hurried to The Musain. He wanted to see Enjolras’ face when he lost his bet, to look him in the eyes when he asked for his favor. He wanted to watch him blush and stammer and get furious trying to come to terms with his small ask. What he really, truly wanted from Enjolras that no one else could give him was a nude modeling session that he could sketch and paint from. He could tell from his outline that he had a lean, athletic build, and all of his daydreams would now get to be brought up to date with the real, actual flesh and blood man. What a delicious thought…

He got there just as the fight started, the bar already packed but with two seats saved for him and Ep. Oddly, though, his seat was near Grantaire, and Ep’s was near Combeferre, but what could you do? The bar was full and he was sure they had done their best. He slid in next to Enjolras and was surprised to have a beer slid in front of him by his devilishly smirking friend. 

“What’s this, Apollo? Trying to get me drunk?” He flashed his half smile playfully to his friend, raising his glass in salute.

Enjolras smiled back, “Just helping you feel a bit better about the bet that you are about to lose. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Are you only saying that because you want me to go easy on you too? Nice try, Enj, but no luck. Thanks for the drink, though. What are you drinking?”

“I’m not thirsty, so I’ll only be drinking in your disappointed misery at the end of the night. I want to keep my wits sharp for that.”

Their playful banter slowed when the fight started in earnest. This was the Brown Bomber’s 69th professional match, and it was nothing in comparison to his last his 140 month reign as heavyweight champion. He was a 37 year old boxing veteran who had come back out from his retirement to get back in the ring, fighting a 28 year old up and coming boxer. Grantaire hoped that his years of training and experience would help him to overcome the youthful energy that Marciano had, but the fight was surprisingly depressing. It was like watching his hero be taken to pieces by a man who did not deserve the honor. At the end of the 8th round, the Bomber lost by KO. Grantaire was more upset by seeing this happen to such a great man than he possibly could have been by anything Grantaire could ask of him. He assumed he would be spending a weekend day handing out fliers or staffing some charity event… what he actually saw in Enjolras’ eyes when he turned to him after the fight gave him pause. Was that… hunger? Oh Jesus. This was bad.

“Beginner’s luck,” Grantaire said grudgingly, more than a little upset at the loss of his opportunity to use Enjolras as a model. Who knows where that might have led? Oh well, nothing for it… “So Apollo, what will it be? A rally? Fliers downtown? Giving out food to the homeless?”

Enjolras steeled himself up. He really,  _ really _ hoped he was right about this… “Dancing.” He said simply.

“Dancing?”

“Yes, I want you to take me dancing. Nothing like what you and Eponine do, but if I’m on the right track, I think you might know a place or two where two men can go out on the town to dance.”

“You want to dance… with me?”

“You’re a stellar dancer and you are clearly a strong lead. Am I right, Grantaire? Do you know of places like that?”

Grantaire was stunned by this blow. Was Enjolras asking him out on a date? ...Where did Enjolras get the idea that he liked men when he hadn’t any idea that Enjolras did? “I might know a place or two…” He hesitantly offered up.

“Perfect. I’ll meet you at your place tomorrow night. I’ll cover dinner and drinks, you can get us into the dance joints and get me back to my apartment by the end of the night. Shake on it?”

Grantaire’s hand was shaking all on its own, but he steadied himself and shook the blond’s slender hand, reeling in shock from the realization that he might get to see the blond in the nude anyway, if he played his cards right.

***

Grantaire paced nervously in his room. He had tried all of his clothes on, twice, and had settled for pieces from an older competitive dance outfit that he and Ep had retired at the end of last season. His entire house was cleaned within an inch of its life, and his schoolwork had been stowed away in the armoire of the guest room. He would have normally spent hours at the gym, hours on his homework, and some time getting his errands from the week done, but that would have to wait. 

When he heard a confident knock on the front door, he bolted up from his chair and forced himself to walk normally to answer it, not wanting to alert Enjolras to his nervousness. He opened the door and was greeted with a vision that took his breath away. Enjolras stood on his stoop wearing his best. Where R had green accents to bring out his eyes, E had a red tie against his tailored black suit to stand out in bold contrast.

“Good evening, Grantaire. Are you ready to go?” Enjolras had done enough public speaking to know how to sound confident, but his audience being about two feet away betrayed his nervousness in the tightness of his posture.

“Of course, my Apollo,” Grantaire nodded, smiling wickedly, “What time do I have to have you back by tonight?”

Enjolras cocked his head slightly, not expecting for their evening to start so practically, “How long will it take to get some dinner and go dancing? It really isn’t my area, though I do try to get myself in bed by a reasonable hour. Does midnight sound doable?”

Midnight? That didn’t leave him much time for many of his hopes, but he was resigned to not being able to keep this blond forever, so that sounded reasonable enough to him. “I can make that work,” he replied thoughtfully, “Are you hungry for dinner yet? Or would you prefer to start out with a quick lesson indoors before we hit the town?”

Enjolras paused momentarily, “A dancing lesson?” He thought for a moment, “That sounds like a wise idea, maybe help us both avoid embarrassment. Dinner can wait for a bit, but I was hoping to take you to the chop house before we went dancing in earnest.”

“Then by all means, come in,” Grantaire made a broad gesture and stepped back to make room for his guest. Enjolras stepped awkwardly inside and closed the door after himself, getting a glimpse of the home Grantaire had grown up in. It was small, but neat, with a small fire still burning behind a grate in the biggest central room. Grantaire made his way to a record player on the table next to the couch, selected a record, and started it spinning. Before he put the needle down, he turned to his guest. “Normally I would ask you to hang your coat on that coat tree over there, but since this will be a quick lesson in how to follow instead of leading, you can just set them on the couch if you’d like.” He then stripped off his own coat and demonstrated by doing the same. He watched discreetly as Enjolras’ fingers shook undoing his own buttons.  _ He’s nervous _ he thought,  _ this will be fun. “ _ Now come on over, don’t be shy, I don’t bite.” 

Enjolras walked over, “What sort of dancing are we going to be doing tonight?”

“I figured you would want to do some swing dancing. So face me, put your left hand in my right, good. Now your right on my shoulder, good. Now the basic step is going to be a one-two, start with your left to right. Good. Now a small triangle of three steps, then back to the one two. Okay, just like that.” Grantaire’s heart pounded as he held Enjolras in a loose grip, breathing in his clean, masculine smell, feeling those cool, slender hand warm at his touch, the other radiating the autumn cold into his shoulder. Enjolras blushed lightly, but he took instruction well. In no time, they had covered the basics, with one complex sequence that he and Ep used when they started Lindy. “That should just about get us through the night, Enj. So, how are you feeling about it?”

Enjolras softly disconnected himself from his partner, taking a step back, “It all makes sense. I’m feeling pretty good about it, but I guess there’s only one way to find out,” he smiled shyly and rested his eyes on the ground between them.

Grantaire could tell that Enjolras had taken dance lessons in the past, otherwise there’s no way he could have possibly picked it up that quickly. He was a natural leader, but tonight Enjolras would learn to follow. Perhaps he had grown with ballroom the same way Grantaire had grown with popular dance in his living room… He shook his head, looking at his watch. It had been 45 minutes, and he was getting hungry. He normally would have eaten with Eponine an hour and a half ago, but she was out on a date, too. He was getting quite hungry. “You ready for dinner?” The men retrieved their coats and headed out into the dark.

*** 

The standard mix of Jerseyans filled the chop house-- couples, families, scattered tables or men or women, occasionally lone diners. Enjolras and Grantaire ordered steak and potatoes, red wine for E, a dark beer for R. Grantaire smiled quietly to himself,  _ of course _ Enjolras would have wine with dinner. He doubted that Enjolras even know how to drink beer… 

While they waited for their number to be called, they chose a small table against the wall.

“So Enj, we’re going to one, maybe two places tonight if the first one is dead. We’ll start with some simple dancing, and if you feel good with it we’ll try some different moves, otherwise we can dance the night away with the ones we just practiced. We’ll leave at 11 if you want to be home by midnight, unless you choose to really let your hair down, then we can stay out as long as you want.”

“Sounds like a plan. It is your town, you can lead the way.”

“What’s this? Our fearless leader can be led? I am agog, I am aghast!” Grantaire grinned while Enjolras groaned and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “What?” Grantaire’s smile shrunk to his playful half smirk, “You took dance instruction so well! I grew up dancing in the same place we just did our little lesson, but with my mom. What dancing did you grow up with? There had to be something. Picking up steps that quickly isn’t natural otherwise.”

Enjolras allowed a smile to touch the corners of his lips, he could imagine a young Grantaire learning in that tiny room. It was oddly sweet, and it explained how such a masculine man ended up so skilled on the dance floor. “I grew up with ballroom. It was a very dry and formal version of ballroom at that, none of the fun or rowdy stuff that happened in the after hours parties. I never understood what on Earth attracted anyone to the dance floor, but I can do steps and follow etiquette. Your competition opened my eyes in more ways than one, because I don’t think there really were rules or etiquette. Everyone just seemed to have a really fun time and I thought, ‘Is this what dancing is supposed to be like?’ That’s why I wanted you to take me dancing. You clearly know how to enjoy yourself on the dance floor, and that sounds really nice.” 

Grantaire raised an eyebrow at Enjolras, “And what made you think that I would know anywhere that men could dance together? That was a pretty bold move, Enjolras. You really took a gamble there.”

Enjolras blushed lightly, “Well, I uh, I heard some men talking about you and I thought, why not?”

“What kinds of things were saying about me?” Grantaire said suspiciously.

“I’d rather not repeat hearsay…” Enjolras looked away, blushing more fiercely.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow, “Enjolras, I deserve to know who I should thank for this opportunity. What did they say about me?”

Enjolras looked like a trapped rabbit, a sight that caused Grantaire to draw back slightly. Was it really  _ that _ bad?? “They said that you refused a woman but had accepted the… attentions of a man in an alleyway.” Enjolras couldn’t make himself look at Grantaire, worried how he might respond.

Grantaire tried to hold back his laughter, but it erupted out of him heartily. “That really doesn’t narrow it down for me much, Enj. That happens to me more often than you’d think. Really, it could be any of a dozen people, but I can see now why you took this chance.” He continued to chuckle before getting up and retrieving their trays of food for the table. 

Enjolras watched him walk away, shocked to his core. Grantaire  _ regularly _ gets that kind of attention from men  _ in alleyways _ ? Geez, he hadn’t ever given  _ or _ received that sort of thing from anyone. Ever. And here R was, laughing at his own reputation for it?? Suddenly he was nervous. Sure he had  _ fantasized _ about R’s body, but now he might have an opportunity to experience it. Did he want that? Was he ready for that? Would he ever be able to look him in the eye again if he saw all of the boxer and decided that he couldn’t… or if he decided that he could?

By the time Grantaire sat their food down, Enjolras had worked himself up to be a nervous mess. R looked at him, confused. “Are you okay, E? Was it something that I said?”

“No no, I’m fine.” Enjolras answered too quickly.

Grantaire paused, watching the blond tremble slightly trying to cut his food. He reached across the table and placed his large hand gently on E’s, stilling him. “Do I make you nervous?” He asked with surprise. 

“No! No, of course not.” He answered too forcefully.

R lifted his hand off of Enjolras’ and pulled back, cutting into his own steak while thinking furiously about what could have changed. His eyes widened, “Enjolras, you don’t have to be nervous with me. I’m not going to do anything to or with you that you don’t want. Those people you heard talking about me weren’t talking about anything that wasn’t wanted by both parties. You don’t have to even  _ think _ about that sort of stuff. We’re just two men out on a night on the town. We’ll do some dancing and go home. No alleyways, I promise.”

Enjolras visibly relaxed, forcing his hands to stop trembling so that he could cut into his food. He looked up at Grantaire, who gazed back with an uncomfortable amount of concern, “Right. Right, of course not.”

***

Grantaire would have normally been a bit embarrassed to show up to this club at 9:00, but this was a special occasion. He knew that some practice dancing when there weren’t many people there would help Enjolras get comfortable and relax. The band was warmed up and playing an energetic opening set, the room was large and dimly lit, the bar was well stocked. He was tempted to start with a drink, but he knew instinctively that Enjolras was a lightweight, and he wanted him to have the best night he could. 

A few men milled around the edges when Grantaire pulled Enjolras onto the dance floor and swung him into position. They started with the most basic steps, Enjolras notably easing into the experience. Grantaire had never seen Enjolras let go of control before and just have fun, and he hoped earnestly to work him into such a state tonight. After half an hour or so, they had moved on to the more difficult Lindy step that he had taught him earlier in the evening. Their self absorbed and increasingly carefree, though admittedly limited, dancing had encouraged other new arrivals to begin to fill the dance floor. 

As one song came to an end, they trailed off the dance floor. “Are you thirsty?” Asked Enjolras, parched.

“I could use a drink,” Grantaire replied coolly.

“What’ll you have?” Enjolras asked as they headed towards the bar.

“I’ll take what you’re getting. Equality in all things, including inebriation. Am I getting this right?” Grantaire teased.

“If you insist,” Enjolras replied, leaning over and ordering two soda waters with cranberry and lime. The drinks were tart and refreshing. They sat upon two stools, sipping their drinks as Enjolras caught his breath.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Grantaire asked hopefully.

“I’m getting there,” Enjolras replied vaguely, “I am glad that we are doing this. You’re showing me that dancing can be fun.”

“And you’re showing me that you can be fun, too,” Grantaire teased, a little too smitten to come off with the lighthearted air he was aiming for. 

Enjolras’ heart thrummed at this, “You aren’t so bad yourself,” he smiled back at the blond.

As the night wore on, they danced their way from a stiff, nervous, awkwardness to a comfortable, laughing camaraderie. Enjolras had never allowed himself to be led like this before, and the night was a completely new experience in not being a leader for once. It was incredibly liberating for him to let go of control and give R the reins. R, with his sculpted muscles, his cool air, his confidence on the dance floor-- this is where he seemed most himself, and this is where Enjolras discovered he liked him the most. 

Enjolras allowed himself to relax, to laugh, to be in an environment loud enough that discussion was limited and, when one of them chose to speak, intimate. One hand moving from deltoid to tricep, Enjolras enjoyed the firm, well defined muscles of his dancing partner. Holding hands with him all night, in a fairly dark room, thrilled him more than he felt prepared to examine at the moment. Grantaire’s large hand on his slim waist was warm and firm, guiding him through each song and around the crowd of fairly raucous dancers that grew with the passing of time. Enjolras had always imagined that there would be a roughness about Grantaire in such close quarters, but he was both gentle and confident, melting Enjolras’ heart more as each hour passed. 

From the private dance lesson, to reassurance at dinner when he felt nervous, to his confident and light hearted night of dancing at hard to find, men’s only clubs, Grantaire had held to his part of the bet far better than Enjolras had hoped for. Enjolras was unsure about drinking, having seen how frustratingly smug R could be when he had had a few drinks, Enjolras ordered only non-alcoholic drinks all night, and Grantaire hadn’t made a big deal out of it or anything. They only stopped dancing when Enjolras needed to catch his breath, never becoming athletic enough to cause R to even breathe slightly hard, impressing the quite differently athletic Enjolras. It struck Enjolras, with his arm around Grantaire, hand lightly grasped, that things would never be the same between them again. Not exactly. No matter what they disagreed on or what horrible things he called R in anger, no matter the quip Grantaire lobbed at him, they would always have this one shining moment. This night where everything was perfect, where Enjolras was going out of his comfort zone and into Grantaire’s, where Grantaire was being the perfect gentleman despite the endless opportunities to make Enjolras feel like less of a person. That thought warmed Enjolras, and kindled in him a hope that he held secretly and prayed wouldn’t extinguish.

Grantaire had never tried so hard with a man before, working to coax smiles and an easy rapport out of Enjolras in this foreign environment to his upper class upbringing. It was a delight to see this serious, impassioned leader let go for once and just have fun. He was delighted to feel the blond’s slender hands on his body and grasped within his own. He forced himself to be the perfect gentleman-- biting off all witty comments before they escaped his lips and being the date he knew he should be. They twirled from one club right into the next, enjoying a nice walk in the cold night air between the venues. 

Enjolras shivered, thrusting his hands into his pockets and playfully bumping into Grantaire, who smiled and nudged back.   
  
“How is your night going? Enjoying yourself?” Grantaire gave his trademark half smile and sideways glance at Enjolras.

“It is even better than I had hoped,” Enjolras smiled back. The cold night air made fog of their breath as they wound their way down city streets and through back alleyways. “How did you find out about these places? The last one was very...discreet.” 

“Some cats at the Lindy scene figured out that I was like them, let me know about the opportunity to dance with the type of people I was really attracted to. I met some good guys there, but I mostly just went to feel like there were way more men like me out there. You don’t see us in movies, we aren’t the heroes of books or radio plays, or TV shows. We don’t get love stories. We just get each other, and we can’t even do that in public. I could kiss the girl all I wanted, but could you imagine what would happen if I kissed someone I really wanted to? I’d be blacklisted from everything I love. So I have to do this. I have to meet up with men for stolen kisses in alleyways. I have to find my way to hidden clubs and I can’t outright walk up to some dreamboat and ask him out to dinner even if he might be interested in me too because it is just too risky. That’s why I was floored when you asked me to take you dancing. I didn’t even dream that someone like would ever want to spend time with me.”

“Someone like me?” Enjolras asked, feeling like he was hearing his own inner thoughts spoken from someone else’s lips.

“You know. Well bred. Good school. Bright future. Handsome in a clean cut way.”

“Well,” Enjolras replied hesitantly, “I didn’t even dream that someone like you would ever want to spend time with me, either. I wasn’t even sure if you liked me on a basic human level, or if you came back to the club over and over because you enjoyed making my life difficult.”

Grantaire chuckled, then took the bait. “Someone like me?”

“You know. Big, strong, masculine, well dressed, beautiful woman by your side. You seemed like a gangster in from a night on the town, not like a… well, not like me at all.”

“I think we’re more alike than you think,” Grantaire countered, “We come from different backgrounds, but we both believe in the same thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“You. We both believe in you. The rest is just window dressing as far as I’m concerned.” Grantaire turned his head to watch Enjolras react to this, watching a light pink rush into his cheeks.

“Grantaire, you must be joking. There are so many things I know you care about! You care about voting rights, worker’s rights, women’s rights, the right to love who you want to. You care about workplace safety and not sending our men to die in wars. I know you do.”

“All window dressing.  _ You _ care about all of those things,  _ you _ believe in all of those things, and you do it hard enough and with enough passion and vision that I really believe you could make the world into the vision in your head. That’s more than enough for me.”

“Grantaire, be serious,” he turned, frowning and stopping in place.

“I can’t Enjolras, I am wild,” Grantaire spun, put his arms under Enjolras’ arms, lifted him up, and kept spinning. He set him down, laughing, and continued ahead. Enjolras wanted to be mad at him, but that infuriating, frustrating, ineffable man was just too much fun tonight to stay mad at him. Enjolras hurried to catch up, trying to suppress a smile, but alas.

***

The second dance club was even more discreet than the first, down a twisting series of back alleys and side streets, and by the time they got inside they were both glad to get in from the cold. The band was pumping, the floor was full, and they were ready to warm up in a hurry. They grasped hands and Grantaire spun Enjolras fully before bowing low to him, then straightening and pulling him in close. Within a few minutes they were warm again, smiling at the pure joy of being alive, laughing at the delight of being in such splendid company. Song after song played on, and they didn’t leave the dance floor once until the band took a break and the dance floor cleared, sauntering as one body towards the bar. Grantaire checked his watch, his eyes widening. It had past eleven and just kept on going. As much as they each felt like staying out dancing might be fun, he had to get Enjolras home, as promised. He took E’s hand and pulled him off the floor and out into the cool night to find a vacant taxi and hopefully the perfect end to a splendid date.

***


	6. Come Home With Me?

“I’m glad we did this,” Enjolras shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing briefly at Grantaire as he flagged down a cab, “You can be really fun when you want to.”

Grantaire goggled at him in mock surprise, “Did Enjolras, our fearless leader, just admit that he was capable of-- fun? Roll the presses!” 

Enjolras bumped into him with his hip playfully. “Come on Grantaire, admit it, you would have been just as delightful even if you hadn’t lost that bet.”

“I would have been even more delightful if you had.”

“Yeah? What would you have had me do?”

Grantaire paused, was it worth it to let Enjolras know what he was up to at school when even Eponine didn’t? He took the risk. “I’m taking art classes.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Um, what does that have to do with me? Would you want me to… enroll in a class with you?”

Grantaire grinned, “Not exactly. I was going to ask you to do private figure modeling for me. You’re so statuesque that I am sure you would be the pride of my collection.”

Enjolras was confused, “You would have me stand around and pose for you?”

Grantaire’s grin widened, “Nude.” If Grantaire could have saved that moment in time, saved the scandalized expression on Enjolras’ face, he would have savored it for eternity.

Enjolras stammered, paused, breathed, and tried again, “Why on Earth would you want that??”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Grantaire simply remarked. Thinking to himself  _ because I may or may not have imagined what you were concealing under those fitted suits and scowls. _ “I bet you’re the picture of masculinity with a perfect bone structure to boot.”

Enjolras flushed a deep red, “Well, thank god I won. I would be humiliated!”

Grantaire paused, worried that his playfulness had pushed it too far, “Enjolras, and excuse me if this is too forward, but have you ever, with a man I mean, um, indulged?”

Enjolras, flustered, turned his face away from Grantaire to hide the deep blush that had taken him from his neck to the top of his head, “Grantaire, not everyone gets to live with the freedom that you do… It isn’t that simple, you know.” 

Grantaire lightly put his large hand on the blond’s slender shoulder, causing Enjolras to flinch like he was going to be hit, “Enjolras, don’t worry about it, I was just curious. There is so much I don’t know about you, that I figured you might be feeling generous enough to share that information with me, since we have one important preference in common. Don’t worry, I won’t go telling anyone, I am clearly practiced at keeping private information private. How could I not be, being like I am? But, look-- if you ever want to try any little indulgence, you know where to find me,” with that, a cab pulled up. 

Enjolras’ heart was pounding as he reached the door, making a last minute decision. He had fantasized about what he would do with Grantaire if he had the chance, and what else was this than the perfect opportunity? As his hand reached the handle, he paused, looking back over his shoulder at Grantaire while stealing his nerves. “Grantaire, would you like to come back to my place tonight?”

Grantaire grinned his half smile, “Are you sure?”

Enjolras nodded, “Completely.”

***

Enjolras squirmed. He didn’t want the night to end, but he didn’t want to give Grantaire the impression that he was planning on … modeling for him, as it were. Grantaire made him feel hot and flustered and nervous and special and… well, he made him feel like he was so much more than a law student in New Jersey. He breathed to calm himself, leaned over towards Grantaire, and lightly grasped his hand, lacing his fingers through the boxer’s.

Grantaire’s heart raced. He knew that he wouldn’t have a shot with Enjolras, hell, he had no idea what Enjolras expected to actually happen when they went up to his place. Did it mean the same thing to Enjolras that it did to every other man on Earth? He fondly remembered his first forays into sexual self discovery, but he was a high schooler-- Enjolras was in law school. He did things in a different order, leaving Grantaire lost at sea as to what might transpire between them.

When the cab pulled up, Enjolras paid and they headed towards the darkened buildings of the campus. It only took a few minutes to get to the large, brick housing unit that Enjolras had rented a private room in. It was a respectable, old money building, bigger than every house on Grantaire’s street combined. Ivy grew over the bricks, and dark windows studded the dark exterior. Inside, dim lights in each hallway provided enough light for them to find their way to the small, third story room that Enjolras called home. It was neat, with an impressive pile of books on his otherwise well tended desk. There was a single chair, a narrow closet, the aforementioned desk, a small bed with a dark wooden frame, and a steam radiator by the window. Neat, severe, businesslike. It was Enjolras in room form, except nowhere near as beautiful. 

Enjolras went in first, inviting Grantaire to close the door and hang his coat up next to his own. Grantaire was used to taking the lead, but he was afraid of ruining this otherwise perfect night and instead opted to give Enjolras the chance to make his intentions known. Enjolras glanced shyly at Grantaire, clearly not sure what to do next, when he seemed to make a decision and held his hand out to Grantaire. Grantaire took it softly, being gently pulled to the bed where Enjolras took a seat and pulled the cynic down with him.

Enjolras gazed into the green eyes of the man now technically in his bed with him, “Did you know that your silver tongue has been driving me crazy for months?”

Grantaire cocked his half smile and teasingly turned to face Enjolras more directly, “Oh yeah?”

“I can think of so many better uses for it, too,” Enjolras traced his fingers up Grantaire’s arm to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and praying that Grantaire would take the lead from there.

Grantaire leaned in lightly and met Enjolras’ lips with a soft touch, opening slightly for a sweet, delicate kiss. He figured it was probably Enjolras’ first kiss, so it would be best remembered as a sweet kiss instead of a passionate one. He pulled back lightly, threaded his own fingers through Enjolras’ curls and pulled him back in for another intimate kiss, delicately licking Enjolras’ lower lip until his mouth hesitantly opened and allowed himself to be kissed more deeply. 

As it heated up, Enjolras took initiative and used his slender fingers to clumsily unbutton Grantaire’s shirt, opening it and ghosting his fingertips over the other man’s muscles, still concealed beneath his cotton undershirt. Grantaire smirked into his mouth, pulling back slightly, “Enjolras, are you trying to undress me?”

Enjolras felt flushed, “I don’t even know what I’m trying to do, Grantaire, I just know that I want to feel you under my fingertips while you kiss me. Whatever that is, it's what I want right now.” 

He leaned back in to kiss the other man again, trying to ease the shirt off of Grantaire’s wide shoulders. Grantaire grinned again, pulling back to let the shirt drop and quickly tugging the thin cotton undershirt off of his muscled torso. Grantaire took Enjolras’ hands and placed them on his waist, kissing him again with renewed vigor while Enjolras explored his waist, back, and chest with trembling fingers. Enjolras felt like he had fallen right into one of his fantasies, like this entire night was a dream come true, and he had hopes of exactly where it would go from here, but he didn’t know how to get from these intoxicating kisses to panting in bed beneath Grantaire. He hoped Grantaire would be able to get him through the night of his dreams, and that he would be an adequate enough partner to be worth a repeat performance or two in the future.

After a minute of intense kissing, Enjolras pulled back, looking into Grantaire’s green eyes, “Grantaire, you have spent all night leading me through unfamiliar experiences, and I’ve tried to be good at being led. I might need a little more practice on that front, though…” 

A suggestive smile spread across Grantaire’s face, “I can manage that.” Grantaire leaned back in to take hungry possession of the blond’s luscious lips, running his fingers through the soft curls on the back of Enjolras’ head and pulling him in close. His hands slid down, sliding around to the front of the blond’s neck, undoing his tie and letting it fall to the ground with plans for it later, and unbuttoned his shirt at the collar. As more of his porcelain skin was revealed, Grantaire kissed down to taste it, to nibble it, to claim it with hungry lips. Enjolras gasped, then hummed a deep note of approval as Grantaire’s mouth worked the curve where his neck met his shoulder teasingly. With each kiss, his shirt became more and more undone until Grantaire was easing it off of his shoulders. Grantaire’s hands explored Enjolras’ torso, soft skin beneath his own rough fingertips, the well muscled body of a disciplined amateur athlete, like living marble. Grantaire pulled back to take a long look at the breathless man, blue eyes dilated with desire, pink lips swollen from kissing, dark patches beginning to bloom on his neck. His pecs were defined, with erect pink nipples that he couldn’t wait to tease with his own lips and fingertips, further down to a slender waist and a lightly defined abdomen. His eyes drifted further down, seeing the growing bulge in Enjolras’ pants, licking his lips hungrily. “There are so many ways this night could end up, Enjolras. I need to know, what did you hope for when you asked me up here tonight? How far do you want this to go?” 

Enjolras, who had been hungrily gazing at the muscular body of the man sitting next to him in bed, was pulled from his reverie. He shook his head to clear his mind, “You’re beautiful,” He said dreamily. “I want to see more of your body. I want to see all of it.”

Grantaire chuckled lightly, “I feel the same about you, Apollo, but then what? I could show you so  _ so _ many things-- name your pleasure and it shall be yours.”

Enjolras fell silent, “I… I don’t know. I’ve thought this through so many different ways, and all I know is that I want to kiss and explore your beautiful body, and I want you to do the same to mine. I don’t know Grantaire, I’ve never done anything like this before...” his words trailed off, his cheeks turning a deep pink as he looked down at his bedsheets. Grantaire reached out and traced his fingers down Enjolras’ jaw to his chin, turning his head back up so that their eyes met. 

“You’ve thought of so many different things to do with me in your bed? I am honored to hold such a delicious space in your mind. It sounds so similar to the one you have held in mine since the night I first met you. How about this,” he let go of Enjolras’ face, who kept eye contact despite his embarrassment, “We’ll undress and kiss, then I’ll use my silver tongue to drive you crazy one more time and I’ll go back home. This has already been a big night for you, and if you like what I do tonight, we can pick up where we left off another time.” Enjolras’ heart thrilled at this, another time?? He nodded shyly, reaching tentatively out to run his fingers down the other man’s jaw, lightly pulling him in for another kiss. 

Grantaire took this as a sign that he could begin to do what he was best at and started to kiss his way down Enjolras’ jaw and back to his neck, running his large hands slowly over Enjolras’ slender torso, trailing fingertips as they traveled down, down,  _ down.  _ When he felt the top of Enjolras’ black leather belt, he slid them around either direction to the front, unbuckling and slowly pulling the belt off, loop by loop. Meanwhile, he had finished with lightly nibbling and sucking at Enjolras’ neck, leaving scandalous love bites in the wake of his kisses, then continued to kiss further down. Enjolras wasn’t going to be left out of this. He traced his fingers over Grantaire’s muscles, ran them through his hair, tugged his head from behind in a mad attempt to increase the tantalizing pressure of Grantaire’s mouth on his heaving body. 

Grantaire left slow, hot kisses down the blond’s distinct collar bones as he kissed his way towards finding out a potentially very sexy thing about the man he was currently trying to undress. He planted a lightly sucking kiss on one small, pink nipple, ending with the most gentle nibble he could manage. Enjolras sucked in a shocked gasp, moaning slightly when Grantaire did it again, more slowly this time, reveling in the soundtrack of this brilliant, passionate man discovering the joys of intimacy for the first time. He loved it when men enjoyed having their nipples played with-- and he had won the jackpot with this one. He hoped the rest of Enjolras’ body was as responsive to his tongue as this. Grantaire kissed his way across Enjolras’ chest to mirror his actions on the other side, dropping his belt off the side of the bed in the meantime, feeling the hard pounding of Enjolras’ heartbeat against his lips as he suddenly pulled back. 

“You should probably lay on the bed for the next part,” his voice came out deep and throaty. He stood to give Enjolras the room to settle himself in the middle of the bed before sliding himself on top, leaning in to resume his slow exploration of the slender man’s statuesque torso. His explorations led him to kiss each defined muscle on his way down to a lone button and a long, slim zipper that stood between him and the growing bulge that his mouth watered for. He took the button lightly between his fingers and quickly undid it, sitting back up all the way onto his knees and smiling sinfully. “I must be forgetting my manners,” he purred, reaching down to take off his own belt. 

“No,” Enjolras’ voice was deep with desire, “Let me do it.”

“By all means,” he slid forward while Enjolras sat up and reached out with trembling fingers, hungrily undoing belt, button, and zipper. Not prepared for the speed of this, Grantaire rocked back, held the top of his trousers, and stood up next to the bed. He moved to be within Enjolras’ reach again, whose fingers resumed their delicious deed and pulled the black and green fabric slowly down Grantaire’s muscular thighs. Neither of them paid attention as his clothing finished its descent to the floor. Grantaire’s eyes were on Enjolras’ face, Enjolras swiveled his body back to a sitting position so that he could have a better angle for the next part. 

First his eyes, and then his fingertips, ran up and down the length of the long, thick bulge being concealed only vaguely by Grantaire’s black cotton union shorts that he wore under his suit. The desire in Enjolras’ eyes was driving Grantaire crazy, the light dragging touch of his fingertips tore a moan from his lips and caused his cock to twitch with desire. He bit his lip as Enjolras leaned forward ever so slightly, licking his lips, and lightly kissed the head through the fabric. Grantaire felt his knees go weak with desire-- how could this gorgeous, infuriating, completely inexperienced man be taking him to pieces like this? He wasn’t the type of man who went weak kneed at the sight of a man kissing him.  _ Unless he means more to you than you are willing to admit _ , a treacherous voice at the back of his mind whispered to him,  _ Unless it is a man you want to impress _ . 

When Enjolras’ fingers made their way up to the elastic band of his shorts, Grantaire’s cock twitched again in anticipation of the big reveal. Grantaire knew how impressive he was… but would Enjolras? He couldn’t wait to see those big, blue eyes, and those perfect cupid’s bow lips when he was finally revealed to him. Enjolras slid the elastic slowly down, licking his lips a second time in anticipation, and managed only to get them to the same mid thigh level before his attention was too spoken for to care what happened to the garment. When the cotton was gone, Grantaire’s thick member sprung free, causing Enjolras to gasp. He reached out with nervous fingers and ran his index finger down the soft skin from tip to base, lightly grasping the base and angling it towards his mouth to kiss it, just once, and flick his tongue out slightly to lick the small bead of precum off of the tip. Grantaire gasped! Did Enjolras just…? His mind short circuited for a moment as blood rushed to harden his already nearly painful erection.

“You’re circumcised,” Enjolras said in awe, “I thought that Catholics didn’t go in for that sort of thing. I’ve been imagining you wrong all these months.” 

“Um,” Grantaire didn’t know if he should talk about this sort of thing while a gorgeous man held his cock below him on the bed, but what was the right choice right now? Deflect? “Yeah, kids of Great War veterans usually are. Tell me about how long you’ve spent imagining my penis in that gorgeous head of yours.”

“Oh for hours, and you certainly don’t disappoint.”

“Yeah? And what are you imagining it doing?”

Enjolras blushed, “So many things… any of which I would really like to have tonight.”

Grantaire was torn between taking control again and losing the opportunity to see what Enjolras would do, or leaving it up to Enjolras and likely ending up with neither of them finishing. He chose that empathy thing that Enjolras was always talking about and reached lightly down to tilt Enjolras’ face up towards his, effectively ending their flirtatious banter and pulling the focus from his cock to his eyes. “My turn.” He lightly stepped back, signaling Enjolras to let go.

Grantaire pulled Enjolras to his feet and got on his knees, making quick work of his pants and briefs. As he had surmised from the shocked blond earlier, Enjolras wasn’t circumcised. He smirked his sideways smile as he beheld the exact sight he had been dreaming of for all these months. As he had hoped, Enjolras sported way more than a mouthful for him to work with. He had seen his fair share over the years, figuring himself a connoisseur in that area, and this one was mouthwatering. Enjolras’ member was slightly long and delicately curved, with that extra bit of skin retracted behind the head in his fully erect state that Grantaire would enjoy feeling roll around in his mouth. He glanced up to see Enjolras, blushing furiously and biting his lip while staring down at him, and paused. Was he  _ sure _ that Enjolras was ready for this? 

“Enjolras, is this what you hoped would happen when you asked me back to your place? Is this what you want? Because if you aren’t sure you want this, sure to your bones that you want me touching you like this, then I won’t so much as lay another finger on you. But if you’re sure, then I am ready and willing to make your fantasies come true tonight.”

Enjolras nodded decisively, nibbling on his bottom lip, “I want this more than you could possibly know, Grantaire.”

Taking that as a cue to get started, he leaned forward and closed his lips around the head of the blond’s cock, lightly sucking while flicking his tongue up and down the slit. Enjolras gasped, one hand quickly fisting Grantaire’s hair, the other coming to the kneeling man’s shoulder for support as the intense pleasure washed over him. He had never felt anything like this before, and he couldn’t get enough of it. The vision of Grantaire, all green eyes looking up at him from below dark curls, sliding Enjolras’  _ own  _ cock into his mouth, his large hands squeezing his ass and pulling him further into that warm, velvety mouth of his, was enough to put all of Enjolras’ fantasies to shame. Grantaire’s tongue stroked the bottom of the delicious cock in his mouth, flicking up when he had pulled back enough to dance around the head. He was pulling out all the stops tonight, doing every single thing he could think of to give Enjolras the best possible first experience with a man. He wanted him to come back  _ begging _ for more when he was done. 

Grantaire had done this before. Lots of times, really, if he were being honest. Sure, he had become used to being on the receiving end of late, but he had spent enough time in both roles to have a variety of mind blowing tricks up his sleeve. He was discovering the delicious array of noises that Enjolras was capable of making when he used his tongue  _ just right _ or took him as deep as he could go and  _ hummed _ . He had never tasted anything before that he wanted as much as the first taste he was given of Enjolras’ steadily leaking precum, which he milked with his skillful mouth, savoring every last drop. He salivated for what was coming next. The sheer idea of a whole mouthful of this ambrosia caused his own painfully hard cock to twitch in anticipation.

Enjolras felt like he was drowning in sensations, like his knees were going out from under him, like the only thing that kept him grounded in the whole world was his right hand in these silky curls and his left hand grasping this muscular shoulder. And  _ Oh _ the muscles! He savored the visual feast below him, the perfectly sculpted body, the devilish lips, the green eyes he could drown in. “Fuck, Grantaire, fuck oh yes, please don’t stop, oh god, your mouth feels so amazing, you’re-- I’m--” He knew his ramblings didn’t make sense, not that he was in the mental space to care. What he didn’t know was that he was speaking a language that Grantaire spoke  _ fluently _ . The language of desire. Grantaire was bringing out a more desperate longing in Enjolras than he had ever shown to another person, and he would do whatever it took to teach him how to fucking  _ sing _ in his own native tongue. 

He pulled Enjolras in  _ deep _ and hollowed out his cheeks, bobbing expertly while keeping hungry eyes on Enjolras’ face. Every moan that tore out from his lips, every gasp, every time he bit his own lip or dug his nails in as he tightened his grip taught Grantaire of his body and how he liked it to be handled. Grantaire could tell he was close, as he had fallen to soft, higher pitched keening and breathy begging. “Oh Grantaire, yes, oh please, please Grantaire, oh don’t stop, oh!” He needed some way to push Enjolras over that edge, something that would cause Enjolras to lose all control and fulfill both of their fantasies of spilling into Grantaire’s mouth. He pulled a hand away from Enjolras’ gorgeous, tight ass and brought out around to his face. Plenty of his own spit coated his lower face by now, so when he pulled back he allowed some excess to dribble out while his nimble fingers were quickly coated in it. Enjolras didn’t know what to make of this, yet, though he would soon know it to be his undoing. 

Grantaire’s rough fingers resumed their tempting position on the perfect ass he had been grasping, only this time spreading apart more and dipping down to lightly rub Enjolras’ entrance, causing the blond’s breath to hitch above him. He rubbed again, causing Enjolras to buck his hips into Grantaire’s throat, “Oh fuck Grantaire, I, I’m--.” He rubbed again. And again. Enjolras came to pieces beneath his powerful hands, crying out while the swirl of sensations overtook him. 

Grantaire looked into his face, waiting to see the perfect vision of his Apollo, his devilish daydream and tantalizing tempter, become lost in ecstasy and spill into his mouth. He knew it would be soon. That he would be the only person who had ever seen him come to climax, the only person who knew what he sounded like, what he  _ tasted _ like. He would be the only person to see him lose control. He rubbed again, only this time lightly pressing down, not enough to actually penetrate, but enough to let him know that it was a possibility… if he wanted it to be. 

That small press, that promise of more, was all he needed. Enjolras felt like he was falling, he felt like he was drowning and fighting his way up towards the air, he felt like the world had shrunk down to the space of just him, just Grantaire, just his heavenly mouth and skillful fingers. The lapping motion on his tingling cock, the teasing pressure on his entrance, the stroking fingers, the green eyes watching him with a mist of desire, was more than Enjolras could comprehend. He felt a tight coil in his abdomen, and then, like plunging over an edge, he burst into Grantaire’s mouth, crying out “Oh fuck, Grantaire, yes, oh god swallow me all down, fuck don’t stop, Jesus that’s so gorgeous!” 

Enjolras’ cock pulsed in short bursts into Grantaire’s waiting mouth, who rode him through the orgasm while savoring every drop. Enjolras’ face had been heavenly, glowing with a light sheen, first biting down on his lip then bursting forth with his filthy language and freeing his reddened, kiss bitten lips to breathe each delicious word in desperation before he cried out in ecstasy and climaxed. Grantaire would replay that exact moment in his head for what he hoped was many years to come. It was raw emotion, unjaded by experience-- it was the kind of orgasm he doubted Enjolras would be able to have with any other man. His first given by another, and because of that it was pure.

Enjolras hadn’t wanted to miss any of the show being put on for him. He hadn’t been able to peel his eyes away from the entrancing vision of his cock sliding in and out of Grantaire. He could fall into those eyes forever. So when he came, it was the most intense orgasm he could remember, made so much better by the hunger he saw in Grantaire’s eyes. He was wanted, he was craved, he was cherished. With his orgasm spent, Enjolras loosened his grip on Grantaire’s hair and shoulder, seeing fingerprint bruises beginning to form on the muscular shoulder he just released, and almost collapsed. Grantaire quickly stood, steadying him, and helping him down onto the bed, where he laid him down reverently near the wall and stretched himself on the bed facing him. 

Enjolras panted desperately, trying to get a lungful of oxygen while staring at Grantaire’s spit slick and shining lips in wonder. “How was that?” Grantaire purred out in his low bedroom voice. Enjolras reached out to him, pulling desperately on his heavy body, unable to move him even an inch closer.

“Grantaire, oh fuck, that was-- I’ve--” he gave up and shook his head, “Hold me close, I can’t--.”

Grantaire chuckled, pulling the blond close and peppering his flushed face with kisses, “Our daring leader is finally speechless. If that’s what it takes to stop you from arguing with me, who am I to refuse?” He grinned.

Enjolras’ panting slowed, “Fuck Grantaire. If I had any idea you could do  _ that _ I would have followed you home the first day I saw you. That was amazing.”

Grantaire grinned, “You have such a filthy mouth in the bedroom, Enjolras. I should be shocked, but I’m just too aroused by it to make the effort.” Enjolras’ eyes flicked down, and as he saw Grantaire’s throbbing erection he stilled.

“Grantaire, you haven’t finished.”

“No, I haven’t, but that isn’t your problem.”

“I beg to differ,” Enjolras tried to sit up using his elbow, only to weakly thud back towards the bed with shaking muscles.

Grantaire smiled wickedly at him, “You can just owe me. You know, for next time. How does that sound?” 

Enjolras managed to blush underneath that vicious pink that had overtaken him with his climax, “It sounds perfect.” 

Grantaire planted a soft kiss on Enjolras’ swollen lips, “I am honored to have used my smart mouth to make you raise your voice in a good way finally. I can’t wait until I get to do it again. Goodnight dear Apollo.” With that he got up, dressed himself, and went out into the cold night. He called a cab from a phone booth, waiting in the darkness for his ride, accompanied only by the tantalizing memories of the night they had just spent. 

When he got home he relived it all again, finally getting his own relief to the image of Enjolras climaxing while calling out his name.

***


	7. Grantaire in the Ring

The next week flew by for Eponine. Between working, dancing with Grantaire, and keeping two people fed, she hardly had time to even think. She desperately needed to talk to Grantaire, but the rush of breakfast and the exhaustion of dinner after their intensive practice regimen, she hadn’t had time to properly catch up with her best friend. She wanted to know what he did all day, what he carried with him in that giant leather briefcase he always left with. Where he was when she arrived just in time for dinner every night. She wanted him to know who exactly it was that had him so starry eyed and grinning. Had he finally met a boy that was worth his consideration as a man, not just as a sex object? 

She also wanted to tell him about the whirlwind romance she was conducting in snippets with the medical intern that she had been seeing. She wanted his approval. She wanted to know that he would be okay if she left to start a new life with this man. He was everything she had been hoping for: kind, non-judgmental, empathetic, mature, caring, intelligent… She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but she had been quietly drafting her own pattern for the wedding dress of her dreams. She would buy the fabric with any money she won at the state competition, and in the meantime she could only fantasize about the day she might get her dream come true. They day she might ditch her poisonous last name and become Mrs. Eponine Combeferre. 

***

Grantaire was fraying at the edges. He had a regional boxing match next weekend, the state Lindy Hop competition in three, more assignments than he knew what to do with, and now he had Enjolras to think about. In fairness, he had been thinking about Enjolras every day since he first laid eyes on his angelic form, but not like this. Not like now, when he knew what his lips felt like kissing the head of his cock, when he knew how he sounded calling out his name in bed, when he knew that there would be a next time to look forward to. Where would he fit it in, though? His weekdays were full to bursting, and his weekends were depressingly just as packed. Eponine wouldn’t let him miss any meetings of Les Amis de l’ABC, for some infuriating reason, and he only went with the knowledge that he would be seeing the fiery, passionate eyes of Enjolras as he organized his friends to work with various movements and organizations. He had tried, in the beginning, to get Grantaire to commit to any volunteer work, but he quickly learned that was a dead end proposition and had moved him mentally into the column of ‘permanently busy.’ If only he knew... 

***

Eight competitors had made it into the regional finals for the New Jersey Light Heavyweight Belt. Four would carry on to the next round at the end of November. Two would carry on to take state in the final match in mid-December. Those were it, the three pie in the sky final possible boxing matches for Grantaire. The way he saw it, he had a coin flip chance that he wouldn’t lose today. He taped his hands, slid his mouthguard in, got his gloves on with the help of the manager at his gym, Bahorel, and stepped into the rosin box to increase the friction on his shoes. He was going to do his best, and win or lose he knew his best friend Eponine was in the audience to see him through whatever may come of this. He had trained long and hard for this, and he figured this was like a retirement of sorts, his final championship set. His last hurrah. 

He was fighting a man that trained at another gym in Eastern Jersey, named Eddie Ronstadt. Across the ring, he saw the other man, wearing yellow and smiling at him with a gold tooth and malicious intent, right before his manager shoved the mouthguard in. He had seen this whole thing before-- the men who tried to intimidate you before the fight even started, and he knew how to deal with them. He winked and blew the man a kiss-- watching his face turn red with anger while the crowd laughed in disbelief and heckled. As always, he would tune them out as soon as the fight began, but for now he was feeding off of their energy. He knew it would be a brutal set of rounds with the bruiser that he was facing up against, so might as well have some fun now. Besides, he was a libertine, so if the man was going to try to shake him, he would shake right back. 

In the first round, Rondstadt allowed his anger at being so publicly mocked energize him, raining fists on a cool headed Grantaire. They each got in some glancing blows, but the clock ended the first round at a nice even score. They were well matched, and Grantaire knew that if he were going to win this one, he needed to get an edge somewhere. If he kept it up this way, he might be able to wear Ronstadt out in his rage and land a solid hit or two, winning by score alone. 

In the second round, Ronstadt pulled in close to him to threaten to, “Knock your candy ass out.” Grantaire responded, with difficulty around his mouthpiece, “Sounds fun. Do I get a reach around afterward?” Ronstadt roared in rage and pushed him back, swinging a bone crunching blow with his right fist, quickly sidestepped by Grantaire who got in a quick one-two into his side. This enraged the man in yellow even more, and with his vicious attempts to strike out at Grantaire, he burned away far more energy than he was prepared to have run through by this point in the fight. Grantaire watched his footwork get sloppier as his advantage started to shine through.

In the third round, Grantaire began to advance methodically, looking for an in and taking every opportunity he could get to strike a blow. He was an artist at work in the ring, wringing out pain drop by drop in unexpected ways. 

In the fourth round, Grantaire was at an advantage, skillfully and efficiently taking his opponent apart. Blood ran down the other man’s face. The crowd roared, so they never knew what Grantaire said to Ronstadt before finishing with a KO at the end of that round. But Grantaire, in his final moment of vicious taunting after a particularly head spinning blow asked, “Do you like my hands on you like that, then?” Within 40 seconds, he had won. He dripped sweat, raising his arms in triumph, to the roar of the crowd and the exhilaration of going on to compete in the semi-finals. That meant another $60 in the bag, two weeks until Lindy Hop finals and three until his next boxing match. Another medal. Another article in the local paper. He would miss it, but as long as he were going out, he would go out in style. Win or lose, he was going to do it with 100% of his effort, and he was going to represent dockside while he did it.

***

Grantaire wanted to celebrate! He had worked hard for the success that he had been enjoying recently, and the future was all his. He had a quick shower and a change before he headed out to his crowd, enjoying basking in their congratulations of the spectators after the matches all conclude. Everyone from the gym was waiting for him to emerge, from the boisterous Bahorel to the devious Montparnasse and the scrappy Brujon. He liked boxing with each of them because they each challenged him to be able to fight in a different style. He liked drinking with them because their appetites for mischief were always refreshing. Plus, they were quite clear exactly what would happen to them if they ever even looked at Eponine for too long, so he felt like he could really go out on the town with them. It would be a fun night.

Before too long, Eponine had found her way over to him and locked him in a huge congratulations hug. Trailing behind her were some of the ragtag members of Les Amis-- Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Lesgle, and-- of course-- Enjolras. He beamed at them all, “I had no idea you were planning on coming! Lesgle, I assume this was your doing?”

Lesgle smiled sheepishly and gave him a thumbs up. “You were amazing, Grantaire!”

Courfeyrac spoke out jovially, “We had no idea what you said to rile him up so much, but it was just so familiar to us. Huh, I wonder why?”

Grantaire grinned, “You might have noticed, but I am pretty good at riling people up when I feel like it.”

Each member shook his hand, made their congratulations, and headed out. Eponine excused herself when the bulk of the group left, saying she had plans and that he deserved to enjoy himself tonight. Oh, he planned on it. He planned on accepting congratulations drinks from each of his fellow boxers that felt like buying him one, then heading in and getting some blessed sleep. If he did it right, he would be in bed before 2:00. 

That plan all changed when he headed towards the changing room to gather his bag and begin his merriment. Leaning against the wall of the entrance, Enjolras looked like a statue in repose. Picturesque, sculpted, beautiful in ways only marble should be able to achieve, yet here he was. Enjolras pushed off of the wall and strode over to Grantaire, bold as ever, and stopped him dead in his tracks. 

“Come home with me tonight?” The blond asked. “Unless you want to go out to celebrate with your friends and your community and… you know what, forget I even asked. Have a good night.” He tried to breeze past, his confidence having lasted approximately 2 seconds before he tried to flee.

Grantaire tried to process this all as one continuous statement, finally coming to the end of the thread that he had been unraveling in this small, strange monologue and lunging out to grab Enjolras’ wrist. “Wait, hold on there. I just-- yes. That sounds like a great celebration. Let me get my things?” 

A minute later he emerges with a duffle bag and a grin, Enjolras falling into step beside him. They make their way out to the street casually, Grantaire shaking hands and nodding to spectators on the way out. When they are on the street, they headed towards the stand of taxis, surrounded by the music of the streets-- speeding cars, laughing groups, honking, rushing wind, the swish of fabric on the legs of the men passing them by. The night was cold, but the block was busy-- partly with the Saturday night crowd, partly with the boxing spectators, partly with life flowing ever forward. Grantaire stole a glance at Enjolras, trying to read his intentions, only to catch his eye as he glanced in return. Enjolras cleared his throat, clearly trying to get a hold of the situation, “We missed you at the Musain last night. When we found out why you weren’t there, we all had to scramble to reorganize our schedules. I’m glad I didn’t miss it.”

“Likewise. So it was Lesgle again, informing on me?”

“Combeferre, actually. Turns out he was already planning on going, but he hadn’t planned on telling us. As far as he could figure, if you had wanted us to know, you would have told us. We wrung it out of him.”

Grantaire’s eyebrows shot up. Combeferre? What the hell did Combeferre care about boxing? Wasn’t he training to be a doctor? Shouldn’t that disqualify him entirely from the audience somehow? “Huh. Okay, well, uh, thanks. Did you enjoy the show?”

“You amaze me, Grantaire. You beat him with your body, but even more so, you beat him with your  _ mind _ . None of us could even imagine what you said to him to cause him to lose control like that, but I had to laugh because I relate. How do you do it?” 

“Aw, guys like that are simple. They have the technique and the size to match me, but not the temperament. He gave the game away before we even threw one punch. All I had to do was dodge, taunt, and bide my time.”

“It was simply amazing to watch. What did you say to him, anyway?”

“I blew him a kiss and asked him for a reach around.”

Enjolras stopped dead in his tracks, jaw dropping in shock before bursting into unexpected laughter. He shook his head in amazement, “Only you, Grantaire. Only you.”

***

Grantaire pulled back from teasingly kissing Enjolras into his mattress, nibbling on his lower lip. “What was your plan for celebrating tonight, Enjolras? You have me all to yourself.” 

“I was hoping to pay you back for last weekend.” Enjolras’ eyes dilated as they raked down the boxer’s muscular arms and chest. 

Grantaire’s eyebrows lifted, “Are you sure? We don’t have to. You don’t actually owe me a single thing.”

Enjolras looked hurt, stammering, “I know that you have had plenty more experienced men and that they were prepared to be better at it than I will be, and that you could probably have a better experience in an alleyway with a fan tonight, but I thought…” Grantaire gripped Enjolras by both shoulders and stared with disconcerting intensity into Enjolras’ eyes, silencing him.

“Enjolras, don’t be ridiculous. I’ve had  _ plenty _ of good head over the years, but that didn’t mean it meant anything to me. It isn’t just the skill that matters, it is the person who is giving it and why they are doing it. Most of those men only know me when I perform, so they think I’m all charm and skill and showmanship. You only came to see me perform because you already respect me as a person. You don’t want me as a boxer or as a dancer, you want me as a man. It’s different.”

Enjolras averted his eyes, speaking so quietly that Grantaire strained to hear him after a night in such a loud crowd, “Does it matter that I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Grantaire stroked the blond’s cheek softly, “Not one bit. If this is really something you want to do tonight, I can show you how.” Enjolras nodded, bringing his eyes back up to Grantaire’s before leaning in for a soft kiss. “Switch with me,” Grantaire allowed the blond to get on top of him and pulled him in for another kiss, harder and deeper. Enjolras’ hands came to Grantaire’s shirt buttons, undoing him slowly from the top while slipping down to suck at his neck. Grantaire smiled wickedly, “Yours too.” 

When they had both removed their tops and undershirts, Grantaire gazed up at Enjolras, kneeling between his legs. To Grantaire, it was like having a Greek god rising before him, all sculpted muscles and glowing alabaster skin, lips deliciously red, fiery blue eyes dilated, cheeks pink with desire. R’s fingers found their way to his own waist and undid his pants, allowing his growing erection some space to spring into. He watched Enjolras’ face as he took in the sight of the half naked boxer, rapidly becoming hard for him. Enjolras was enraptured, licking his lips while hungrily grasping and then tugging Grantaire’s remaining clothing, negotiating the space to get the man undressed efficiently and leaving him only in his union shorts. 

Grantaire watched the naked desire that played across the blond’s face with anticipation, longing for the feeling of those perfect lips wrapped around his cock, taking in as much of him as he could fit. He could hardly believe that any of this was happening on a night when he would have traditionally gone out with the boys, but he had stayed in with a man that he may just so happen to be falling for bit by bit. His reverie was put to an immediate end when Enjolras removed Grantaire’s last item of clothing, marvelling at the muscular and perfectly proportioned man on the bed below him. Grantaire pulled Enjolras down for a deep kiss, pressing their bodies together, tugging him close enough to enjoy the pressure of skin on skin. 

Their kisses deepened as he could feel Enjolras become hard while pressed against him, his desire becoming more and more apparent, separated from him by only two layers of cotton. Enjolras pulled away and ducked quickly back in, turning Grantaire’s head to the side so that he could bite and suck small marks into the boxer’s throat. 

Enjolras’ soft pink lips had found their way down to Grantaire’s defined pecs, testing out his theory on Grantaire’s beautiful body. In his mind, what people chose to do in bed to their lover, at least initially, was a roadmap to what they had fantasized about having done to themselves. Feigning confidence, he planted a firm, sucking kiss on Grantaire’s nipple. When Grantaire’s breath caught, he knew he had found something. Being bolder, he kissed again, very delicately taking it between his beautiful teeth and lightly nibbling-- a small moan this time. This time, he tried the light nibble, while sucking and pulling a little bit away before releasing. Grantaire’s reaction this time was explosive enough that Enjolras felt a little bit of pride, having found one way to drive Grantaire mad. He repeated his exercise in increasing intensity on the other nipple, for equality sake, and was treated to the sweet sounds of a very strong man going weak for him. 

He revelled in kissing the firm and trim figure laid out below him, each and every inch as a masterpiece and he intended on enjoying the entire gallery worth. The perfect indent of his bellybutton. The deep V of his hips. The coarse trail that led down to the treasure Enjolras longed for. Grantaire’s cock waited for him, pulsing and tipped with an inviting pearl of precum. Enjolras’ imagination had given him a solid week of (he hoped) realistic daydreams about taking satisfying mouthfuls of Grantaire and straining to take more. Of sucking and bobbing and licking and teasing and taking. Of the ‘next time’ that he had been impatient for. He took solace in the fact that if he messed up, Grantaire would set him right and help him make this fantasy come true. With that, he began.

The first thing he wanted Grantaire to feel was the velvet of his tongue lightly lapping at the head of his cock. He lightly traced his tongue over the tip, tasting Grantaire and hearing him inhale sharply. Grabbing the base of the thick cock he was craving another taste of, he wrapped his lips around the head and lightly sucked, swirling his tongue playfully. He pulled back slowly, sucking while dragging backward then sliding ahead to take in more. It had been apparent to him from the first time he saw this cock that he would never be able to fit the whole thing in his mouth, but he was up for the challenge. He bobbed again, deeper still. He wanted to finish getting half, if not more, of this glorious cock to slide between his lips tonight

Grantaire gazed down, mesmerized by the thick cupid’s bow lips stretched around his cock, the intensity of the burning blue eyes, the pink blush on the marble cheeks, the spun gold curls. Enjolras’ tongue danced around his cock, tracing the underside as he dipped even lower, and the vision alone could have been enough to cause Grantaire to spend right then and there. He wanted to enjoy this, far more than he had enjoyed even the most skilled lover he had taken before, because he knew that this actually  _ meant _ something to both of them. His cock was the first one that Enjolras had ever taken between his beautiful lips, and though he could certainly feel the inexperience, he felt all the more pleasure from the effort being made to please him. He reached down to run his fingers through the soft blond curls that were haloing Enjolras’ heavenly face, lightly tugging to see how Enjolras responded. He positively  _ felt _ the hum of pleasure, tugging again to enjoy the thrill of vibration as the blond worked himself further down.

Enjolras hollowed out his cheeks and bobbed his head, having hit the halfway point and feeling bold enough to see how deep he could take Grantaire. His tongue, artful with speeches and arguments, served to take Grantaire to pieces in a way he was pleased to see was completely effective. Grantaire moaned and ran his mouth, comparing him to Greek gods and venerating his skillful tongue to the heavens. Enjolras allowed Grantaire’s cock to bump against the back of his throat, swallowing around it once experimentally. Grantaire fought his hips desperately to keep him from bucking further into Enjolras’ throat, moaning and begging for more. Enjolras pulled back and did it again, reaching his free hand experimentally down to caress the paper thin skin between his balls and his entrance. Grantaire gasped like he was scandalized, grasping the blond curls much tighter and pulsing in Enjolras’ mouth. He desperately wanted to thrust into the blond’s mouth, to take control and do what he needed to finish, but he couldn’t let himself do that. He had to wait for Enjolras to finish him, and at this rate he was getting close. 

Parroting his experience from the prior weekend, he brought two fingers to his mouth, pulling entirely off of Grantaire’s cock momentarily, took his fingers in his mouth and wetted them. His eager mouth wrapped around Grantaire again as his hand reached down to stroke the firm muscle around Grantaire’s entrance, choking slightly as Grantaire thrust into his mouth in surprise. Grantaire’s muscles began to tremble below him as he rubbed mercilessly, pressing in just a bit each time.

“Enjolras, I can’t last much longer,” Grantaire breathily warned, getting a deep hum of approval as reply that drove him further still. He grasped the blond ringlets below him and finally lost control, thrusting twice between the perfect pink lips before spilling into his mouth with a cry of “Enjolras!” on his lips. Enjolras swallowed hungrily, sucking Grantaire through his orgasm and swallowing every drop. As soon as he had let a softening Grantaire slide out from between his lips, he was hefted bodily and pulled up into the bigger man to be kissed passionately by the trembling and panting boxer. He pulled their bodies closely together and held him, feeling the pounding of his heart and listening to his desperate attempts to breathe. Grantaire felt how aroused Enjolras had become  _ just by sucking his cock _ , and he longed to reciprocate. Enjolras kissed him back with as much ardor, having become so hard while pleasuring the other man that he was nearly spent himself, completely untouched. 

“Enjolras-- fuck, if that is your idea of a celebration, I need to spend the holidays with you. Jesus, that was-- how did you--” he shook his head, “Fuck Enj, I need you between my lips right now or I might just  _ die. _ ” 

Grantaire efficiently undoes and removes Enjolras’ button and zipper, with Enjolras sliding out of his pants to reveal the thick bulge that Grantaire had been daydreaming about all week. There is a small wet spot, revealing exactly how excited giving head had made him, bringing a sinful smile to Grantaire’s lips. He easily flipped the blond over, switching places with him on the bed and trailing his fingers up and down Enjolras’ erection. 

Enjolras thought he was going to  _ die _ from how much he wanted to feel Grantaire’s lips on him again. When his back hit the bed, the thrill of being manhandled by none other than Grantaire himself caused his cock to twitch in anticipation. When those large fingers traced a line from tip to base, he wasn’t entirely sure he could hold back long enough for Grantaire to take him before he burst. “Fuck, Grantaire, please…” he moaned, gasping as the larger man slid quickly down, leaving a rough trail of nips and kisses from his neck to his hip before roughly tugging his briefs out of the way, but just far enough down his thighs that Grantaire had access to his desires, trapping Enjolras’ legs fairly tightly together. Enjolras’ cock sprang free and he gasped as Grantaire quickly enveloped him within his war and questing mouth. He sucked down hard on the head, licking away every bitter drop of precum as he flitted his tongue up and down the slit. He sank lower, taking Enjolras inch by inch, stroking his tongue along the bottom while hollowing out his cheeks, bobbing deeply then pulling out almost all the way to allow his tongue another playful twirl over the head each and every time. Enjolras accompanied his skillful ministrations with the most delicious soundtrack of moans, gasps, and breathy exclamations of “Grantaire!” 

As much as he wanted to revel in this, Enjolras knew he wasn’t going to be able to last. He twined his fingers into Grantaire’s black curls and tugged, “Grantaire, I’m so close--” but Grantaire either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, sucking hard at the head while flicking his tongue just beneath. Enjolras felt the pleasure wash over him and the tight coil in his stomach positively explode, causing him to thrust roughly into Grantaire’s mouth once while crying out, “Oh Grantaire, yes! Fuck, please, yes!” while spilling into his mouth in bursts. Grantaire practically milks him dry before sliding back up to kiss the panting and shaking blond. 

Enjolras’ arms loop around Grantaire’s broad ribcage, pulling their nude bodies flush. There was so much skin to feel, sticky with sweat, and so many things he had to stop himself from saying that Enjolras simply kissed Grantaire desperately between desperate attempts to get enough air into his lungs. When Enjolras had cooled down, Grantaire rolled off of the top of him to land at his side against the wall, looking over at him with a sideways grin and twinkling eyes. 

“Fuck…” Enjolras breathed, “Grantaire… That was…” Grantaire leaned over to kiss him again, silencing him.    
  
“I’m glad you enjoyed the match. If that’s the kind of congratulations I get for a match where I win, you might never get me to quit,” Grantaire teased. Enjolras’ face went serious.

“Grantaire, you did great, don’t get me wrong, but that beautiful brain of yours is an asset worth protecting and nurturing. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Besides, how crazy you drive me in a well done match doesn’t even  _ begin _ to compare to how crazy you drive me in a well done argument. If head is what motivates you, I can promise you more of where that came from if you’ll just leave the sport and develop that gorgeous brain of yours.”

Grantaire shoved him playfully, “Why do you think I’m taking art classes, Enjolras? I’m going into advertising. I should be done around when you finish law school. This is my last series of fights, I only have two matches left, maximum. Come enjoy them with me, be my man in the crowd, my number one fan.”

Enjolras’ eyes filled with wonder, “Do you really mean it, Grantaire? You’re quitting the sport?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it. I’m not going big in it if it means I’m going to have to sacrifice years that I could otherwise spend enjoying myself in other pursuits, like exploring between your thighs for example.” Enjolras swatted him playfully in response, but kissed him tenderly all the same. He pushed his clothing all of the way off of his legs and turned to face Grantaire, resting his arm over Grantaire’s rising and falling ribs, staring deeply into his green eyes before leaning in to kiss him.

Grantaire didn’t leave until midnight, adorned with a small but impressive collection of love bites and a smile so radiant it could light up even the darkest parts of his heart.

***

Grantaire awoke with a groan to the sound of Eponine clattering around in his kitchen.  _ I must have missed breakfast _ , he thought, dreading what time it might be. He heard her bump his bedroom door open, flooding the room with light and causing him to retreat beneath the covers. 

“Up,” she ordered, matter of fact. “Take these, water is on the nightstand, then come out for breakfast. It is on the table.” He heard her full skirts swish out of the room and tentatively peeked out, getting a glance of two aspirin and a glass of water. She thought he had overindulged at the bar last night, but he hadn’t had a single drop… not of alcohol, anyway. He sat up, got out of bed, donned a robe and made his way to the table. He got himself into a chair, wishing he were still abed, and stared vacantly at the table for a moment before focusing his eyes on the silverware and plate before him. Pancakes, eggs with ketchup, bacon, orange juice. This was no ordinary breakfast, this was a hangover breakfast. He smiled. Eponine was taking care of him. She always took care of him like this, and he loved her for it. Not in the way she wanted a man to love her, but all the same.

“Eponine, you’re the best,” he grabbed a crunchy piece of bacon and tentatively took a bite.

“Long night?” She asked, smiling.

“Slightly? I was asleep before 1:30. Just spent the night indulging in… personal matters.” Eponine looked appraisingly at his exposed skin, from his neck to part of his chest, noting the hickeys that had blossomed.

“I can see that. That isn’t alleyway love from the look of it. Must have taken you two all night. Lucky guy. I was surprised to find you in here alone this morning. Couldn’t get him to stay the night?”

“Naw, I didn’t bring him back here. We stayed at his place until midnight. It is just… a bit far from here.”

Eponine raised an eyebrow, “Someone I should know about?” He smiled weakly back, shaking his head.

“Not yet,” he dreamed of a world where he and Enjolras could date in the open, go steady, go to the movies and to get pop and dance at any old club they came to, but at least he could be open with Eponine. Eventually.

Eponine took a deep breath, “Grantaire, I’ve got something to tell you. I’ve met someone. I’m… I’m leaving, Grantaire.” Grantaire felt his stomach drop out from beneath him.

“What?? When? Where? ...Who?”

Eponine smiled again, blushing with excitement of finally getting to tell someone, “I’ve been seeing Combeferre for a few months now, and you know how he is finishing his medical residency in June? Well, he’s moving to Boston to start up his pediatrics practice and he wants me to come with him. So I’m planning on marrying him the weekend before we move out together. I just wanted to make sure that you’d be okay without me around anymore.”

Grantaire’s throat filled and he had to calm himself before speaking, choosing his words carefully, “I’ll be fine, Ep. Better than that, you’ll get to have a family again. I’m so happy for you two, I really am. I guess that means this is our last competition, huh? If it is the last time I get to sweep you off your feet, better make it a good one.” Eponine stood with a clatter as her chair toppled backwards, launching herself into a full shoulder hug of her best friend. He really was the best.

“I’m going to miss you  _ so much _ Grantaire!” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she hugged him tight. 

That meant that he would be ending his fighting  _ and _ his dancing at the same time. He felt more lost than ever, like a chapter was ending in his life and he had no idea what to expect on the next page. He didn’t want this one to end, but it was time to turn that page and see what the future had in store for him.

***


	8. Diner Delights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burgers, ice cream, and talk of the future.

Grantaire had missed last week’s Les Amis meeting because of practice, so he wasn’t willing to miss another. Did he have the time for it? No. Would he sacrifice sleep to  _ make  _ time for it? Gladly. Tonight he would see Enjolras again, and if he played his cards right, he might be able to convince him to go to dinner with him again on Saturday night, have some phosphates and burgers like two kids going steady. Of course, they would have to be discreet, but they would know what they were doing, and that is all that matters. 

Tonight Enjolras was fired up about segregation, how even in  _ New Jersey _ where segregation was struck down in courts, patrons were separated by skin color in the classroom, all while being denied access to hotels and lunch counters! How could America be the land of the free and the home of the brave when our police are too cowardly to enforce the laws handed down from the courts! Les Amis de l’ABC would show up in support of an action by the NAACP, but under  _ no _ circumstance would any of them try to take a role of leadership. They  _ must _ show that there is broad support within all branches of society for fully integrating all aspects of public life, and they must do three weekends hence at the steps of the New Jersey state house! As Enjolras spoke, his eyes wandered over his friends and fellow visionaries, searching for a dark haired skeptic in their midst. He had thought that Grantaire would be here. He had to be. But why wasn’t he arguing? Why wasn’t he speaking up and ridiculing and causing trouble? Could it be that he had finally found a subject that Grantaire wouldn’t mock? He found him, lounging in a chair in the back, tipping his head back to take a long drink from a dark brown bottle, Adam’s apple bobbing. He quickly handed the rest of the meeting over to Courfeyrac to organize so that he wouldn’t get flustered in front of his group. This was silly! How could Grantaire, of all people, cause him to lose his cool like this? How could his silence be even more distracting than his disagreements? 

Grantaire finished his drink, righting himself and opening his eyes to the room when he caught Enjolras’ eyes on him. He slowly withdrew the bottleneck from between his lips and smiled devilishly, raising the bottle to the other man in salute. Enjolras looked away quickly, aware that nobody was watching him at this particular moment, but that in this time of suspicion, he was certain he was already being scrutinized by fellow law students. He didn’t need to give them anything to use against him. Not this easily.

After the meeting had officially concluded and Les Amis were milling around planning their weekends and telling the tales of their recent adventures, Enjolras made his move. Grantaire was seated quietly with Combeferre and Eponine, leaning in and nodding as they held themselves in secrecy. Enjolras pulled a chair up, breaking their private exchange and noting the furtive glances between the three of them. Enjolras nodded at each in turn, “Eponine, Combeferre, Grantaire. Good evening. I see you were sharing a private moment. Should I leave you to it then?”

Combeferre quickly responded, before any of the others who had known Enjolras for less time could make a mess of things, “No, nothing like that. I think we’re all done here, about to split up for the night. Besides, we can’t keep our two athletes out too late, they have their Lindy Hop state final a week from tomorrow. No, I think our scheming is about done for the evening. What do you think, Eponine?”

Eponine smiled conspiratorially, “I think I have a point or two left to iron out with you. We can talk about it on our way out if you want to leave now.”

“Yes, that sounds good. Let me make my rounds, say some goodbyes and I’ll walk you home.” With that, Grantaire shook Combeferre’s hand, nodded to Eponine, and the two went out into the crowd, leaving the curly haired men alone at the table.

“I’m sorry if I caused you to split your group up like that,” Enjolras felt awkward and uneasy, “I just wanted to see what’s up with you. I didn’t hear a peep from you tonight, so I figured something must be up.”

“No,” Grantaire ran his hands over his face and through his hair, “I’m just tired. Exercise when I wake up, class all day, dancing with Ep, assignments, and not nearly enough sleep. I don’t know how you college boys do it, I’m being run ragged.”

“Well, we mostly work on developing our brains, and that isn’t nearly as exhausting as the training I imagine it took to get you ready for the ring or the dance floor, so that helps.”

“You must do some training. There is no way you have that lean figure without some exercise.”

“I row every morning to stay in shape, but only for a bit. I rarely opt in to competing with the team, though. For me it is more just… a way to stop my brain and just exist in the physical world for a minute. A time where I don’t need to worry about making a difference or the strategic choice. I like it.”

“I can think of another thing or two that might shut your brain up for a bit, plant you firmly in the physical world.” Grantaire grinned devilishly and winked playfully, Enjolras rolled his eyes and sighed. Grantaire laughed, using this as an opportunity to broach the subject.

“So uh, tomorrow night. I was thinking.You want to go with me at dinner, get some burgers and pop?”

“Don’t you have to practice for your next two weekends of competitions? Shouldn’t you be preparing for them?”

Grantaire waved his hand dismissively, “Ep is going out to dinner tomorrow night, and by dinner time I will have already been up since 7:30 working on boxing, dancing, and painting. I deserve a break, and you are just what the doctor ordered for a grade A distraction. How about you meet me at Howard’s Hamburgers over on 19th at 7:00? Have a little late dinner, maybe some ice cream afterwards?” 

It all sounded nice, innocent-- kind of fun to Enjolras, so he nodded in the affirmative,    
“Tomorrow night at 7:00 it is.” They shook on it.

***

The jukebox was blaring Patti Page’s  _ Would I Love You _ when Enjolras stepped inside of Howard’s Hamburgers at 7:00 that cold, dark evening. It was warm inside, from the grill and the press of people animatedly enjoying themselves at each and every table. He scanned his eyes over the crowd of faces, searching for wild black curls and gleaming green eyes. He might have beat Grantaire here, but he doubted it. He hadn’t known that this place existed until Grantaire had told him to meet him here, so it took him some time to find it, but Grantaire clearly chose it for a reason. No luck yet. He turned the other direction to scan those tables, his eyes landing on a familiar smirk in the corner. He made his way through the restaurant to sit in the booth that Grantaire had secured for them, noting that Grantaire had a soda in front of him already that he was sipping from slowly at this very moment. 

“Good evening Apollo! Would you like a phosphate?”

“Good evening Grantaire. I, uh, I’ve never had one before.”

“Be adventurous! Cherry, lime, vanilla, or chocolate?”

“Can you mix them? A cherry vanilla sounds nice, I guess? I don’t know, Grantaire!” Enjolras laughed, “I didn’t grow up with soda and hamburgers! This is your area of expertise!”

Grantaire flagged down a waitress, dressed in a pink and white full skirted dress with a white apron, and when she had weaved her way through to him he ordered for them, “Can he get a cherry vanilla phosphate?”

“Sure thing, sugar. Are you ready to order your burgers?”

“Yeah, I’ll take one with cheese, french fries on the side. Chocolate ice cream for dessert, but bring that out afterwards. He’ll take one,” he paused and turned to Enjolras, “You want cheese?” 

Enjolras gave Grantaire a look which said,  _ How should I know? _

“Yeah, he’ll take one with cheese too. French fries on the side.,” he looked at Enjolras again, “Strawberry, chocolate, or vanilla?”

Enjolras looked even more exasperated, so Grantaire continued again.

“He’ll take a banana split for dessert. Bring it out the same time as mine. That’s us.”

“Two with cheese and fries, one chocolate, one banana split, coming right up.” The waitress swished away to the counter.

“Grantaire! I can’t have a whole banana split by myself!”

“You ever had one before?”

“No, but--”

“Trust me, you’ll find yourself up to the task when the time comes. So a phosphate, burgers, and a banana split. A lot of firsts for you tonight.”

Enjolras smiled back tentatively, shaking his head slightly, “Well, I’ve enjoyed all of the other new experiences you’ve shown me, so I’ll just have to trust you on this.”

Grantaire grinned back, “The night can have as many of those as you are interested in. We don’t have to stop with these three.”

“Four.”

“Four?”

“French fries.”

“You’ve never had  _ french fries? _ Jesus Enjolras! Should I be worried for you? What did you have for treats as a kid?”

“I grew up in an estate in Connecticut. We had a chef when I was home, then they sent me to a boarding school in Maine to prepare me to become a gentleman. The treats I got were more… involved than any of this. I’m afraid to say that there are so many normal experiences I just plain missed out on.”

“I know that your life was easier than mine, but it doesn’t sound like you had nearly as much fun as you should have. That… explains a lot, actually. You aren’t stuck up like you came across as in the beginning, you’re just a man raised with a purpose that didn’t include any pleasure. If you’ll allow me, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing. Show you how the other half lives.”

“Yeah? And when do I get the chance to show you how my half lives?”

This gave Grantaire pause. He hadn’t thought about how one sided this had been. He had taken Enjolras dancing, Enjolras had seen him compete in boxing and Lindy Hop, he had even shown him what it felt like to take a man into his bed, well-- to a certain extent. Tonight he was showing him a casual dinner and who knows what else? But what effort had he made to see life from Enjolras’ perspective? He had attended the meetings, but often with the intention of disrupting. “The ball’s in your court, Enjolras. I have competitions the next two Saturdays. One more if I win the boxing match. After that, I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.”

“ _ If _ .  _ If _ I’ll have you. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? I’m all in, Grantaire. I want to take you home with me to meet my parents, even if they’ll never know what you are to me. I want to see you struggle with ballroom dancing and try to figure out what to do with five forks, four knives, three spoons, and five glasses. It’s just that I know I keep a full schedule, and yours makes mine seem leisurely. So yes, of course I’ll have you, just… on our own time. I’m not in any rush.”

They both fell silent, by requirement, as the waitress brought Enjolras a phosphate soda and quickly retreated to serve another table.

Grantaire was shaken by Enjolras’ clear declaration of… what? Desire? Intent? All he knew was that he was simultaneously moved, scared, and aroused by the thought that his secret desires for a chance at a real relationship, a real  _ love _ with this man might be a possibility. His mind knew of all of the impossibilities of their relationship, but his heart didn’t. Wouldn’t.  _ Couldn’t _ possibly accept that it wasn’t worth trying, worth fighting for.

“I’d like that,” he finally responded, quietly. “A chance to meet the people who turned you into this radical leftist? A chance to embarrass you with my Jersey ways in the halls of your family home? It sounds… nice.”

Their plates of burgers and fries arrived then, and which gave both of them a moment to sit with their thoughts until they were once again alone. Enjolras wanted Grantaire in his life. He was making an effort. He was giving so much of himself to Grantaire, stepping so far from his own world and into the much less decorous world that made the likes of Grantaire. And what was Grantaire doing, exactly? How far was he willing to go for this? What price was he willing to pay?

He gazed across the table at Enjolras, who had picked up his burger and took a hearty bite, unsure of what experience awaited him. His eyes opened wide in culinary wonder as the symphony of flavors and textures played over his tastebuds-- the bread soft and sweet, the melting and sharply flavored cheddar, the sauce tangy and smooth, the pickle crunchy and tart, the crisp lettuce, the hot and juicy patty. Each of these flavors came together to give him an experience that he had not expected, chewing with relish while savoring his first bite. “Oh Grantaire!” he exclaimed after swallowing, “This  _ is _ delicious!” He picked up a fry experimentally, popping it into his mouth and treating Grantaire to another show of delight, “This too! Such simple dishes, but so satisfying! I envy you for having grown up knowing of this!”

Grantaire smiled, picking up a fry of his own, “I’m glad you like it. I thought you would. I know it doesn’t stand up in the culinary world as much better than street food, but sometimes it is nice to have a simple meal that leaves you with enough time and energy to enjoy the rest of the night at your leisure.” 

Enjolras paused, burger halfway to his mouth and cocked an eyebrow. He placed the burger back onto his plate, “Did you...have anything in mind?”

“A couple things, actually. It depends on what you are up for. I was thinking we could eat up, head back to my place, and see where the night takes us from there. If you’re interested, it could go any way you want.”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” Enjolras responded with a brief smile of his own, picking his burger back up and taking another, thoughtful bite. 

As they ate their burgers and fries they got to enjoy the bustle of the restaurant around them, giving them enough privacy to discuss their studies, their plans for the holidays, their hobbies, and actively not discussing what the night had in store for them. Enjolras buzzed with a nervous energy as they cleared their plates. The waitress reappeared and whisked their plates away, returning momentarily with a fluted glass tumbler of chocolate ice cream for Grantaire and a glass boat of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate ice cream, a split banana, whipped cream, sprinkles, and a maraschino cherry on top. Enjolras goggled at the ice cream behemoth that was placed in front of him, flicked his eyes to Grantaire’s single scoop, then back to his dish of delights. Grantaire laughed heartily, picking up his spoon and digging into his own dessert. “Eat up, Apollo. It is better before it melts.”

“It is too beautiful to eat,” Enjolras laughed, “I don’t even know where to start!” Grantaire reached across the table with his own spoon and swiped some of the whipped cream off of the top and popped it into his own mouth, grinning even more devilishly.

“There, I fixed it for you. Eat up,” Enjolras shook his head, trying to stop smiling so wide.

He tried, he really did, exclaiming at the way the cold treat tingled on his tongue, trying a bit of each flavor, groaning as he had his first ever ice headache. Finally defeated, half of the dessert left, he pushed it across the table towards Grantaire, “I can’t possibly have another bite!”

“Don’t look at me, I already had a whole scoop myself,” Grantaire flashed his sideways smirk at him, “I can’t imagine ordering something that big to eat myself.” Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get the bill and head out, I can’t take another look at that ice cream.”

Grantaire flagged down the waitress, Enjolras paid, and they headed out into the dark winter night, Grantaire leading them towards his home and the night that lay ahead.

***


	9. We May Not Have Tomorrow, But We Do Have Tonight

Enjolras stepped into the warm interior of Grantaire’s home, closing the crisp night behind him. Grantaire was hanging his coat on the rack near the door, taking off his shoes and striding towards the fireplace to add another log. Enjolras joined him shortly, sliding in beside him in his white collared shirt and red tie. They warmed their hands together for a moment before Grantaire spoke up, “You would have loved my mother. She was an angel. She went out dancing with my father up ‘til the week before my brother died in the war. She’s the reason I…” Grantaire cleared his throat, thought twice about what he was going to say, and started again, “You are the type of guy I always wanted to bring home to her. My father would have beaten the life out of you, but my mother? She’d have loved you.”

“I’m sorry I won’t get the chance to meet her, she sounds great,” Enjolras responded quietly. “I don’t think that my parents will react to you anything like how your parents would have reacted to me. For one thing, I can’t imagine my father being daft enough to think that he’d be able to raise a hand to you. And my mother? She’s… complicated. Women in my family’s income level are often treated as accessories, and their opinions are never sought. I think that has made her bitter, and all she has had to shape in our little world has been me. Unfortunately for her, I’m a bleeding heart liberal hellbent on remaking our country in the exact opposite direction that either of them want, but she tried.”

“I can’t imagine how they’ll respond to you bringing me home for the holidays, but if you’re sure, I’ll gladly find out how well they do with a Jersey dock worker’s son in their estate. It should at least be interesting. Just curious, but why do you want me to come home with you so soon?”

“I know that it feels soon to you, but I have slowly fallen for you, piece by piece over these months. Each piece of you fits together like a beautiful, complex puzzle in an unexpected way. I’ve had such a great time with you every time I get to be alone with you that I spend more time thinking about you than I care to admit. I want to see how you do in my world, since I have enjoyed each time you have welcomed me into yours.”

“You’ve… fallen for me?” Grantaire glanced sideways at the blond, watching the firelight dance over his skin.

“Desperately. Isn’t it obvious? Hell, Grantaire, I’m the one who asked you out in the first place! I asked you back to my place not once, but twice! I have attended two of your fights and one dancing competition even though I haven’t ever taken interest in either of those before I met you. Not once. I bet on the boxing match not because I knew I’d win, but because I wanted to spend time with only you and I didn’t know how to do it otherwise. I just… I really like you, Grantaire. I know that you have experience in the world of romance, so this might be a little juvenile, but I have really been trying to impress you. I want you to think that I’m… worth all the trouble. That I might not know what I’m doing, but I’m worth it all the same.”

“Enjolras, you’re more than worth it. You’re… I have worked very hard to make myself worthy of your love. I’m stopping boxing because of something you showed me. I enrolled in college so that I could get a respectable career all because of you. I fell for you on first sight, but that was only for your looks. I fell for your mind and your heart over the months that followed, and I knew I would have to content myself on never being able to have you. When you asked me out dancing, I swore my heart was going to stop. There you were, a man I had fallen for first in pieces and then all at once, asking me to take you to do something I loved? It was perfect. All of this has been perfect. The dancing, the dinners, the time in your room, your support at my competitions. I felt like it was too good to be true, and now this? Having you in my home, standing by my side and telling me that you care for me? This is heaven.”

“You’re doing all that… for me?” Enjolras asked in wonder.

“I’d do so much more for you, if you’d let me,” Grantaire replied quietly, almost shyly. When he looked sideways a moment later to gauge Enjolras’ reaction, the blond had turned to face him directly and was leaning in. His slender fingers gently trailed a tingling pattern down Grantaire’s cheek, turning his face to lean in for a delicate kiss. Grantaire’s hands didn’t know what to do at this awkward angle, so as soon as the kiss broke he turned to fully face Enjolras, gazing into his deep blue eyes. 

“What would you do if I let you?” Enjolras brought his hand around to the back of Grantaire’s head, lightly sifting his fingers through the silky curls. 

“What do you want to let me do for you?” he leaned into the fingers stroking through his hair, chasing the sensation and gasping at the light tug that Enjolras treated him to.

“I was hoping to go to the bedroom and see where it went from there,” Enjolras replied, voice deepening with arousal. Grantaire reached around to grasp the intertwined fingers playing with his hair and pull them free, taking the long fingers in his hand and led him to the bedroom, glancing behind him at the gorgeous blond just once on the short journey through his tiny home, into the small and orderly master bedroom. Green gingham curtains hung over the only window, there was a bed perhaps a size up from Enjolras’ own, covered in green flannel sheets and a thick down comforter, framed by two bedside tables with lamps upon them and an ash dresser in the corner with an accompanying wicker laundry basket. It spoke of a man who didn’t let his personal life intrude on his resting space, an ordered man. It was Grantaire’s most personal space, and it smelled so strongly of his clean, woody scent that Enjolras felt like he was completely surrounded by him.

He led Enjolras to the bed and turned so that the blond’s thighs were against the mattress and they were face to face. He kissed him again, deeply and with more heat and tension this time. He had Enjolras in his room, about to be in his own bed! He wrapped his arms around Enjolras and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together while running his fingers in light patterns on Enjolras’ back. 

Enjolras’ mind was racing. He was a bold and fearless man, but the thought of what tonight might have in store for him curled like a nervous fist in his gut. He rather liked kissing Grantaire, with his quicksilver tongue and wicked mouth, but he wanted more. He felt Grantaire’s hands travel down his back and come to rest possessively on his ass. He gasped into Grantaire’s mouth, feeling like a bolt of electricity was racing straight from those large hands into his now rapidly filling cock. He felt the boxer smile against his lips as he squeezed again. His hands slid to each side to grasp his hips and lightly push him back onto the bed. Momentarily startled, Enjolras found himself seated on the edge of the bed with Grantaire standing before him. A quick glance showed him how excited Grantaire was by this development. He leaned back onto his elbows, getting a lovely angled view of Grantaire before shifting his weight to slide further back onto the bed. 

Grantaire gazed down at the vision on his bed, mostly on the mattress, blue eyes dilated with desire, pants suspiciously tight in the front, blond curls falling about his face in elegant rings. He placed one knee on the mattress about halfway up the outside of the reclining man’s right thigh, shifting his own weight forward as his other knee took its place on the outside of the other thigh, putting his weight on his forearms bracketing the aspiring lawyer’s shoulders. Grantaire chuckled, leaning down to kiss the blond and murmur into his lips, “Scoot up a bit, give me some room to work with.” He felt Enjolras smile, then slide back further, fully stretched out the wrong direction onto the bed. Grantaire adjusted his own position to resume kissing those full, pink lips and get to work undressing the man he had now managed to take into his bed. 

For each piece of clothing he removed from Enjolras, Grantaire took off the same piece of his own. When their shirts and undershirts joined Enjolras’ red tie in a slowly mounding pile off the edge of the bed, Enjolras reached up to trail his fingers down Grantaire’s body. He loved the feel of the man, with soft skin that turned to goosebumps below his fingers and hard muscles that twitched lightly as he traced their outlines. His fingers found what they had been hoping for, Grantaire’s belt, and fumbled to undo it, exposing the boxer’s top button which he went for next. Grantaire pulled back from kissing him and leaned his weight on one elbow to balance a bit further away and get a good look into the blond’s eyes. “Enjolras, what exactly do you want to do here tonight? And don’t tell me that you don’t know or that you want to see where it goes, because I need you to be clear with me. Do you want to do something we’ve done before? Something new? What exactly do you want to do with me?”

Enjolras colored slightly, but gazed back looking absolutely delicious to Grantaire. “I want you to make love to me, Grantaire. I want to give myself to you tonight, if you’ll have me.” Grantaire’s eyes widened-- of course he had wanted to hear those words, had dreamed of hearing those words, but he could hardly believe his ears or his luck that he was actually being offered his dreams on a platter. He had changed so much since meeting his man, and his life was now heading in such a different direction than he had ever imagined as a result. Tonight could be theirs, a time when they put aside all of their bigger worries about the world outside of themselves and focus only on enjoying one another. 

Grantaire eased himself off of Enjolras to go to his bedside table. He retrieved a couple of small items from the top drawer, setting them atop the tiny table, and walked into the bathroom to grab something. Enjolras heard the sink running a moment later. In the meantime Enjolras righted himself on the bed, orienting himself in the traditional direction of head by the headboard, feet by the footboard. Enjolras examined the small items atop the bedside table-- a small glass bottle and a wrapped condom. Oh. He reached for the bottle, clear green glass, and uncapped it. He poured a drop onto his fingers, not sure what to expect and being met by what appeared to be some kind of oil. What was this? Olive? Grantaire walked back in, small washcloth in hand still steaming but clearly wrung dry. He flashed Enjolras his sideways smile and cocked his head at him. “What do you feel comfortable with mon ange? If I understood you right, you wanted me to make love to you. The more comfortable way would have you on hands and knees, but it can feel a bit overwhelming because you might feel like I am doing things to you instead of feeling like we are doing things together. The other basic way would have you on your back with a pillow beneath your hips, and you could see me so you wouldn’t be so alone feeling, but it would be less comfortable. I mean, there are other ways, and I would be thrilled to show them all to you one day, but those tend to be the simplest two that people tend to start with.”

Enjolras but his lower lip in thought, “What if we start out the easy way, and when I’m all ready we can switch around so that I can see your beautiful eyes?”

Grantaire smiled, “Sounds perfect,” he set the damp hand towel down next to the condom, “Now let’s see about losing some excess clothing.” Exposing Enjolras’ skin was like uncovering living marble-- so perfect and unblemished, too sculpted to seem real, but warm and responsive to his large hands and curious lips. When their suit bottoms and socks joined their pile of shirts off of the side of the bed, they each examined their handiwork in the expanses of bare skin they both longed to explore. 

Enjolras ran his fingers reverently over the muscles of Grantaire’s torso, down to the V at his hips, down further still to the thick, throbbing cock that was waiting for him. Grantaire revelled in the feeling momentarily before leaning in to kiss the blond, feeling their soft skin touch tantalizingly. He rolled off of the top of the law student and purred in his deep, bedroom voice, “Now get on your hands and knees and pull your knees up.” Nervous, Enjolras obeyed, embarrassed at the position and suddenly understanding what Grantaire meant when he had implied that it was an isolating experience. He felt Grantaire shift in bed and heard the noise of glass sliding across wood-- the bottle of oil, then. The weight shifted and the boxer was directly behind him, lightly running the fingers of one hand down his back, curving down his ass feather light. The soft feeling of lips on his back, trailing kisses down while the fingers explored and helped him to lose the tension that had entered his body worked in putting him more at ease. 

“It is only as fun as you let it be, mon ange,” Grantaire murmured between kisses, “I need you to relax, I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing and that I won’t hurt you. I want you to enjoy yourself in my bed as much as you did in your bed,” he lightly nibbled his way down the curve of Enjolras’ ass. “And if you want me to stop, at really any point, even if it is just enough for you to catch your breath, just tell me and we will stop. You don’t have to do this, but if you want to, I want to make it everything you have dreamed of.” 

Enjolras let out his breath and forced himself to relax his taut muscles. He chuckled lightly at himself, “I’m sorry R, I’m just-- this isn’t-- I don’t know. I want it, I’m just nervous.”

With confident and methodical oiled fingers, Grantaire slowly helped Enjolras loosen up and prepare to live out his fantasy, in the flesh, of being taken by the infuriating, playful man he had fallen for. The grace of a dancer mixed with the control of a boxer and the passion of a boy from the dockside trying to make something of himself-- and they all came together, in this moment, on this night, as he silently vowed to himself that he would show Enjolras what he was really good at. Enjolras felt his nervousness transform into excited anticipation-- everything that Grantaire could do with that silver tongue and those artist’s fingers had him convinced that if he could die and go to heaven, it would have nothing on this moment. 

One finger was at first odd, but pleasant when he had gotten used to it-- especially when Grantaire stroked his finger over that glorious, delicious spot that made him feel like there was electricity shooting into the pit of his stomach and clear down his cock. Two fingers, a bit of a stretch, but he knew that Grantaire was much heftier than that, and he knew that there was no comparison. Besides, he could spend the entire night with attention lavished on his most sensitive parts like this. Grantaire worshipped him with his kisses and teasing fingers, he was almost there. Almost ready to take the next step. Three-- perfect. 

When he felt Enjolras relax around him, when he felt his trust and adoration it was almost more than he could bear. He pulled out and away, wiping his hands on the washcloth as he rolled on the condom, oiled himself up, and admired the masterpiece in porcelain and gold on display before him. Enjolras whined high in his throat as he pulled away, Grantaire let out a low chuckle. “We’ll start out the comfortable way, and if you still want to, we’ll end looking into each other’s eyes. Do you still want to do this?”

“More than you could possibly imagine,” his voice had become so husky and breathy it surprised even him. Grantaire grinned to himself, he had done that. It was his fault that he had wrecked this passionate man all the way to his voice before the main event had even begun. He was good. Enjolras felt strong hands on his hips, a shift on the bed as Grantaire positioned himself, and then a new pressure. Enjolras gasped as Grantaire slid slowly inside of him, pulling out to add more oil twice and slowly, delicately starting that rhythm. He felt his big, strong hand reach around and grasp his cock as his muscled body pressed in and drove him out of his mind with sensation. Enjolras, a study in self control in all other parts of his life, felt himself coming apart at the seams. All of the things that had defined him in his life melted away as he let himself be something entirely new-- he was a man, in love with another, letting go of all of his control, letting down all of his walls, and letting another in. Waves of pleasure washed over him as Grantaire began to take on a slightly faster speed and a slightly harder impact as he hit the same electric spot over and over again. “You’re right R, this is your greatest talent,” he smiled to himself, then felt a bit let down when he couldn’t see the sparkle he knew would be in those green eyes as his deep chuckle vibrated through his body.

“Oh, I know. But just wait, it gets even better.”

He gasped, “Please Grantaire, please, I want to see your eyes. Let me see them.”

“Your wish is my command.” 

Grantaire pulled back, slipping out, and lunging up to grab a pillow while Enjolras flipped over and laid out on the bed. His curls were damp, his eyes glittering, his pink lips gone red with desire. Grantaire lifted up his hips like he weighed nothing at all and placed a pillow under them. He put more oil on his cock, lined himself up, lifted those hips slightly to get into a good position and gazed right into Enjolras’ eyes as he slid back in and was able to watch his tousled angel come to pieces. Grantaire got to watch the passionate, educated man learn the art of making love. 

Looking up at Grantaire, Enjolras got to see his rough and roguish features become somehow beautiful as he focused on the one person he truly loved. Grantaire’s hand slid over to lightly wrap around Enjolras’ cock and start pumping to the same rhythm as his thrusts. Grantaire was pulling out all the stops, using his well honed skills to give Enjolras a physical expression of how much he loved him. Enjolras, inexperienced and eager, didn’t know how good he had it obviously, but if Grantaire had his way, that would always be the case. If it were up to him, he would make love to him for the rest of their lives-- in state houses and sleeper trains, in college dormitories and dance hall bathrooms. 

Enjolras didn’t last nearly as long as he would have liked, so when the pleasure became overpowering, Enjolras let it wash over him and suck him under. Staring directly into his sparkling green eyes, Enjolras bucked once, twice, and, gasping, came in spurts all over Grantaire’s hand. His exclamations of absolute gibberish (as far as he was concerned) were music to Grantaire’s ears. The show of pleasure and wonder on his face, watching his lips darken, his eyes widen, his breath quicken, his muscles tighten was the most beautiful art Grantaire had ever seen. Bearing down with increased gusto, R thrust into him, once, twice more and then came too, pulling out and rolling onto his back next to the smaller man when he was done. He reached languidly over and grabbed the damp cloth, wiping off Enjolras’ stomach before tossing it back on the table and rolling back on top of him to give him a long, slow, lingering kiss. Enjolras didn’t have the lungs for that, pulling away for a moment to get some air before kissing him passionately again and again. He pushed Grantaire to signal that he wanted him on his back, then switched places with him, kissing once more and then just sliding down to put his face in the space between the boxer’s large shoulder and defined neck. He ran his fingers over the larger man’s skin, content to just be with him.

“So?” Asked Grantaire, “Was it everything you thought it would be?”

“Even more,” Enjolras smiled to himself, “Grantaire?”

“Yes, my angel?”

“I love you.” He felt the larger man’s muscles momentarily tighten, then start to shake with small breaths. “Are you...crying? Is it… do you not… Grantaire, look at me.” He pushed himself up on his forearms to see Grantaire fighting to stop tears from falling, chest bobbing as he fought himself for control. R’s big arms wrapped around Enjolras’ rib cage and pulled him in tight. Had he said something wrong? He thought… didn’t, was it possible that Grantaire didn’t love him too? Then what was all this? Tonight? The last month. All of it! What did it mean?

Grantaire cleared his throat, “Nobody has said that to me since my mother died,” he choked back tears, “I never thought I’d hear that again, that’s all.”

“Do you… do you love me too?” Enjolras hesitantly spoke, quietly and unsure. 

“More than I know what to do with. Tell me again, Enjolras.”

“I love you, Grantaire, and I’ll tell you that every day until you’re sick of hearing it, my love.”

Grantaire believed it, and more than that he knew that, even though this world wasn’t built for them, even though everything stood between their love, they would face it together. If nothing else, they had this moment, where he held the love of his life against him, in his own bed, as a moment he could live in forever if he had the chance. His love. His. And nothing in this backward world could take this from them, he would make sure of that. 


End file.
